


Turn Up The Bright Lights

by Choi Eimi (Siyah_Kedi)



Series: Turn Up The Bright Lights [1]
Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Angst, BDSM, M/M, PWP, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-10
Updated: 2014-04-19
Packaged: 2017-11-20 19:53:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 73,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/589063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siyah_Kedi/pseuds/Choi%20Eimi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for Nanowrimo 2012.</p><p> </p><p>Baekhyun has a secret, and Chanyeol is determined to find out what it is.  After following him to a private club one night, Chanyeol is sucked into a dark underworld where the lines between pain and pleasure are blurred.  His friendship with Baekhyun changes irrevocably and things will never be the same again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Baekhyun Is Up To Something

**Author's Note:**

> This actually has a full length 'soundtrack' to accompany it, but 4shared tells me it will take two and a half hours to upload it and the library closes in an hour, so I will add that with later chapters. 
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>  
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> THIS IS MOSTLY SEX. If you are not of the legal age to view adult materials in your country then PLEASE DO NOT READ THIS. It was inspired by the Kushiel's Legacy series by Jacqueline Carey (the first three of which feature a masochistic whore as the POV character) and in part by Fifty Shades of Grey. Yes. It is THAT TYPE OF STORY. Please consider yourself warned, as I am not liable for brain damage or anything else resulting from the reading of this story. 
> 
>  
> 
> Secondly, THIS IS ONE HUNDRED PERCENT, ENTIRELY and COMPLETELY fictional. I made it up!! Not one scant shred of this has any basis in reality. I wrote it because it was Nanowrimo, and I had some mental images I wanted to get out of my head. This was the result of reading the Kushiel's Trilogy, and it wasn't actually meant to become a monster (though it has.)
> 
>  
> 
> It is currently well over 50k words (yes, I won Nano with it!) at least seventeen-twenty chapters (it's still unfinished, but reviews are food for the writer's soul, and I'm feeling the need for some kind words, so please read, and review kindly!) and I'm already planning at least two side-stories to accompany it, one featuring Tao and getting into TaoRis, and the other featuring HunHan. 
> 
>  
> 
> I will update as often as I can, but please bear in mind that I cannot get online at my house and must go to the library in order to do so, which takes gas, which costs money, so I cant promise a set schedule for updating. As I said, it's almost complete, so the nicer the reviews I get, the more likely I am to update faster. 8D /shamelessbegging
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>  
> 
> That said, I think I've covered everything. Please enjoy this fanfic!

**Chapter One**

 

“I have some errands I need to run,” Baekhyun said, pausing in the doorway.  Suho waved him off negligently, but Chanyeol turned around to look at him.  “I probably won’t be back for a while,” Baekhyun continued, shifting his weight from side to side.

Chanyeol eyed him suspiciously.  “Where are you going?  Shopping?  Do you need any help?”

For some reason, this made Baekhyun laugh.  “No, thank you.  I don’t need help.  It’s not shopping, it’s just a few things I need to do,” he hedged.  Chanyeol watched with narrowed eyes as he slipped out the door, shutting it quietly behind him.  The other members had already turned their attention back to the movie.

“Where do you think he goes?” Chanyeol asked in an undertone.  To his left, Sehun shrugged.

On his right, Kai mirrored the movement, and added, “Who knows?  Why don’t you follow him next time, if you’re so curious?”

Chanyeol sat back and considered this.  “Maybe I will,” he said.  Suho shushed him and threw a piece of popcorn at his head to make sure the message went home.  Chanyeol rescued the popcorn kernel and ate it, a thoughtful expression on his face.  The mystery of Baekhyun’s disappearances had been weighing on him for some time.  Gradually, he became absorbed in the movie and it went out of his head. 

 

The next morning, Baekhyun shuffled out of his room like a zombie, bleary-eyed, wearing a peaceful, half-dreamy smile on his face.  Chanyeol’s suspicions went through the roof at light speed. 

“Did your errands go alright?”

Baekhyun started at the sound of his voice, and then shrugged, zeroing in on the coffee pot.  “I suppose so,” he said.  As he stretched out to pick up the carafe, Chanyeol noticed him wince slightly.  There seemed to be no reason for it, and it caught his attention.  “Fairly routine,” Baekhyun added, and poured himself a cup of the coffee.  He wrapped both hands around the mug when he was done and inhaled deeply with a sensual expression on his face.

Without coming out and demanding that Baekhyun explain himself better, Chanyeol had to give up the chase.  But he knew it wouldn’t be his only opportunity.  Nearly three weeks later, it came again.  Chanyeol realised it was always right before or right after a performance that Baekhyun vanished mysteriously.  With another performance coming the next night, he watched his band-mate closely for signs of what he might be doing.

Sehun called him out on it, cornering him alone in the hallway.  “You’re actually starting to creep us out,” the maknae informed him.  “Is there any reason you can’t just let it go?”

“It’s weird,” Chanyeol insisted.  “I just want to know what he’s _doing._ ”

“Why?”

“He goes out every time we have a performance. Or a TV appearance.  Or anything to do with Exo at all.  That means it’s got to do with Exo business, which makes it _our_ business to know what he’s doing.”

Sehun shook his head, but didn’t argue.  “I guess Kai had the right idea.  Follow him, but stop dragging the rest of us into it.  Kyungsoo said the other day that he’s probably just going for a massage or something.  He always comes back looking relaxed, and god only knows that it’s stressful enough without _some people_ adding to it.”  As if his tone wasn’t enough, he glared at Chanyeol to get his point across.

“Heard, understood, acknowledged,” Chanyeol said flippantly.  “Maybe I will follow him.  He’s probably going out tonight.  I’m going after him.”

Sehun rolled his eyes in response.

 

Chanyeol lurked near the entrance, mostly out of sight.  As expected, Baekhyun announced that he had some errands he was going to take care of, and slipped out.  Chanyeol followed silently behind him. _Why_ this was so important, he didn’t know.  But it had been driving him crazy for months now, and he was determined to see the mystery solved.  Whatever he’d been expecting, it wasn’t a twenty minute walk to an abandoned part of town.   He followed some distance behind, and watched Baekhyun take a turn down what appeared to be an alley, and jogged to catch up.  He turned the corner just in time to see Baekhyun knock on a door and speak to someone before vanishing into one of the buildings.  Chanyeol waited five minutes, and then approached the door.

With no idea what to expect, a beautiful man wearing eyeliner and leather straps and not much else wasn’t even within the realm of possibility.

“Ah!  A newbie!”  The man beamed.  “How did you find us?”

Chanyeol stared.  “Excuse me?”

With a conspiratorial wink, the man leaned forward.  “Not many people find this place on accident,” he confided quietly.

“I was following Bae- er, my friend.  He came in just before me.”

“Starling,” the man said knowingly.  Chanyeol stared, bewildered.  “He’s a regular.  Even calls ahead to make appointments.  So, you don’t know what we do here.  Were you worried?”

He was about to deny it, but then when he considered it, realised that worry truly was at the heart of his curiousity.  He was worried Baekhyun was mixed up in something dangerous, and if this man was anything to go by, perhaps he’d been right to be concerned.  “I was,” Chanyeol said.  “I am.”

“Well, he’ll come to no unwanted harm here,” the bouncer assured him.  Much to no one’s surprise, it wasn’t very comforting.

“What _is_ this place, anyway?”

“You’ve truly no idea?”  The bouncer looked gleeful.  “Welcome, then, to SiyahSarang!”

“Shee-yah… love?”

“Black love.  Named for its founders, the Lady Siyah and my lord Sarang.”

Chanyeol stared at the bouncer.  The bouncer stared back. 

It was quite anticlimactic.  “Should there be fireworks or something?”

The bouncer chuckled. “No, you may find those within if you’ve a mind.  If you’d like to enter, I’ll need some form of identification.”  After checking the card Chanyeol presented to him, he handed it back and nodded.  “You’ll probably want a code-name – no one within goes by their true name.  It’s very hush-hush.   And I’m sure you realise that whatever you see in here is to be kept utterly silent.”

“I’m not sure what you’re getting at,” Chanyeol said.  “Why?”

“It’s based upon trust.  I believe you, and I think you’re cute.  You seem like you’re about to walk the gangplank of a pirate ship right now, and I’m going to let you, because you’re worried about your friend.  If you never come back, I don’t think you’ll tell anyone.  If you do… well, you still won’t tell anyone.  You’ll understand.”

Chanyeol made a hopeless noise in the back of his throat.  The bouncer gave a cheeky grin. 

“You can call me Siberian.  We have a few questions to get through before I can let you in.  Now, are you a dom or a sub?”

“A what or a what?”

“You really have no idea.  You’re so cute.  Do you go for men or women?”

“Er, I’m not sure…?”

“Come on, new kid, you’ve got to give me something to work with here.”

Chanyeol shrugged.  “Both, I guess.  I’ve slept with women, it was okay.”  The words just slipped out.  Not even the rest of Exo knew and here he was, spilling his deepest secrets to a total stranger.  “I never got that far with a guy but…”

“You’d like to.” The bouncer nodded sagely.  “I understand.  It’s easier with men; they know what to do.”

“I guess.  Um.”

“So, bisexual, or at least bi-curious.  Got it.”  He marked something down on a piece of paper. 

“Why the twenty questions?  I just want to know what my friend is doing.”

The bouncer wagged the pen at him.  “If you want to get in, we have to go through this.  I’m not even supposed to tell you what this is.  Our patron’s privacy is of the utmost importance here.  And also, with you being brand new to the scene, we want to make sure you are neither harmed, nor that you cause harm to others.  Thus, the twenty questions.”  He looked down at the paper again, and murmured as he wrote.  “Undecided as to dom or sub.”

“What even is that?”

Siberian looked up at him again.  “You’re just so cute!” he squealed, and his hands shook.  “Alright.  Do you know the word, _bdsm?_ ”

“Ah?”

This time Siberian looked downcast.  “Oh my gawd, boy, sit down, for the love of god.  You’re putting a crick in my neck.”  He pushed the door open wider and invited Chanyeol inside.  Purple lights lined the hallway, which was otherwise bare.  At the far end of it Chanyeol could see a doorway.  Faint music filtered through it, the bass throbbing.  Siberian took him into a small office just inside the door, with a desk and two chairs, and a filing cabinet.  A laptop computer screen displayed pictures of men and women tied with ropes and bound to beds, hoisted into the air and spread across wooden devices.  They all looked as though they were in pain.  Chanyeol felt his mouth go dry.  _What has he gotten involved in?_


	2. I'd Like That

“Now, you don’t even know what BDSM is, am I right?  A rank novice.  They will eat you alive in there.”  Siberian set his clipboard down, and sighed.  The leather straps covering his chest creaked, and in the dim light of the tiny office, Chanyeol noticed he was wearing tiny leather shorts, and thigh-high leather boots.  With high heels. 

Panic started to set in. 

“BDSM is the word for the community involved with pleasure and pain.  It stands for ‘bondage and discipline, dominance and submission, and sado-masochism.  That’s what I meant when I asked if you were a dom or a sub.  Me, I’m a sub.  I take orders.  My dom gives the orders.”

“And that means…?”

“Well, you haven’t run screaming yet.”

Chanyeol blinked.  “Do you expect me to?  My friend is in there.  I just want to make sure he’s alright.  And you still haven’t explained dom or sub.  I get it, I think, with these orders… but not really.”

“Dominant.  And submissive.  Imagine you’re in a scene.  Are you the one on top, with the paddle in your hand, telling someone what to do?  Or are you the one who’s tied down, being paddled?”

“This is about sex.”  It clicked into place.  “I get it now!”

“Oh, honey.”  Siberian shook his head, but he seemed to be fighting a smile.  “So, dom or sub?”

He didn’t quite understand exactly, but the words were explicit enough for him to imagine.  Did he want to be tied down?  No. Fucking. Way.  But the idea of being the one _doing_ the tying… “Dom,” he said, swallowing around his dry mouth.  “I’m on top.”

Siberian looked up at him through long lashes, an expression of heavy-lidded bliss on his face.  “I thought you might be.”  He leaned back and smiled brightly.  “And Starling is a sub, so if you two decide you want to play around a little…” he left the sentence dangling. 

“Starling?”

“Your friend.  That’s his stage-name.  I told you you’d need one.” He rummaged through one of the drawers in the desk and withdrew a pink bracelet.  “Wear this while you’re in there.  It’ll let people know you’re new at this, keep them off your back.  It also means you’re old enough to drink, if you’d like to sit at the bar and watch for a while.  Angelique’s a friend of mine, she’ll take good care of you there.”

“Angelique?”

“The bartender.”  Siberian snapped the bracelet over his wrist, loose enough that it didn’t constrict without danger of slipping over his hand.  “Mm, you have nice hands.”  Siberian stroked the skin from his wrist, over his palm, down to his fingers.  The touch lingered and Chanyeol shivered.  It wasn’t entirely unpleasant.  “Have fun.”  Siberian showed him the door and sent him down the hallway.  The pounding bass got louder as he approached the end.  With some of the images in his mind, he wasn’t entirely sure what to expect when he opened it.  It looked – for the most part – like any other dim, smoky dance club he’d been to. 

Then he noticed that the people were naked, or nearly so.  Some, like Siberian, wore leather straps and not much else.  One woman floated by draped in sparkling gauze, nude underneath except for a collar around her neck.  She kept her eyes down, and that was one of the first distinctions Chanyeol made.  The subs didn’t look up unless explicitly ordered to.  It was the doms who looked around at each other, some of them smirking, others merely conversing.  On a raised dais in the middle of the room, two scantily-clad people danced, rubbing against one another erotically.  Scattered across the vast space were more little stages, set with devices that looked like they’d come straight from the torture-chamber of medieval Europe.  Whips cracked, people moaned.  Wood smacked against flesh in obscene punishment.  In one corner, a man not much older than Chanyeol was hoisted into the air by straps tied around his body, while five or six other surrounded him and petted and stroked his exposed skin.  To his right, he saw the bar, and made for it.  

“Excuse me,” he murmured, dodging a woman wearing a thick collar and a ball-gag in her mouth, and nothing else.  His face flamed in embarrassment that he should have to see her like that.  It just seemed so… personal.   The stages were lit up by bright lights, and as he passed by one of them, he realised he could see every twitch and shudder the poor sub – tied to a wooden railing as the dom reddened his backside with some sort of whip – gave under the abuse. 

_What in the hell possesses people to do this for fun?_   They didn’t seem to notice or care that they had an audience.  Chanyeol shivered, and tried not to dwell on it as he made his way to the bar. 

“You look like a man in over his head,” the bartender – a beautiful young woman who looked to be in her mid-twenties – greeted him.  Chanyeol smiled self-deprecatingly.

“That’s what Siberian said, too.  That I looked like I was about to walk the plank of a pirate ship.”

She poured something out of a bottle and slid the glass across the bar to him.  “True enough.  What brings you to SiyahSarang?”

Chanyeol took a cautious sip.  It was just sprite.  He laughed.  “I followed a friend of mine here.  Are you Angelique?”

Her eyebrow rose.  “I am.  Siberian has a big mouth.” 

“He told me to look for the most beautiful woman in the room,” Chanyeol flirted.  She laughed, and then flashed a grin as she noticed his bracelet.

“Brand new, hm?  Like what you see here?”

Chanyeol swiveled on the stool and looked around.  The music was still throbbing, the vocal line drowned out by the pounding bass.  Above the music, moans and screams and shouts rose from the subs.  “I’m not sure,” he said honestly.  “I never even… I mean, this is totally outside anything I’ve ever even considered.  Are you… er, involved…?”

Angelique laughed.  “In the first place, that’s a terribly rude question.  In the second, no, I’m not. I’m simply a bartender.” 

“Does this bother you?”

“Not in the least.  I understand what a turn-on a little force, maybe some ropes can be in the bedroom, but I have no desire to take it any further than that.  What about you?  Will you get involved?  You said you followed a friend…”

Before he could draw breath to speak, Baekhyun appeared at the counter.  He kept his eyes down, and appeared to not even notice Chanyeol, who sucked in a deep breath and tried not to stare.  Baekhyun had changed, at some point.  His hair was streaked with glitter, and he was wearing a great deal of it on his face and neck and arms as well.  Chanyeol was accustomed to the eyeliner, but the loose, sheer top he wore was new.  It had matching trousers, and he wasn’t wearing anything underneath. 

Angelique turned to him, but not before taking in Chanyeol’s reaction.  “Starling.  Can I help you?”

“Sarang would like a drink,” he breathed softly.  Angelique busied herself behind the bar while Chanyeol tried to keep from staring.  It was… it was bizarre.  The more-than half-naked man in front of him bore no resemblance to the grinning trickster he roomed with.  All his stage presence, all of his forceful personality seemed muted; tranquility lay over him like a blanket.  Not once did he look up, or around, nor even shift his weight.  He simply stood, eyes downcast, with his hands behind his back as he waited.  When Angelique was finished preparing the drink, she slid it onto the bar in front of him and left it.  Not until her hand was withdrawn did Baekhyun even reach for it.  He took the drink and carefully moved away from the bar.  Chanyeol watched out of the corner of his eye as Baekhyun walked past him.  For a moment, the tranquility seemed broken as Baekhyun drew up short, his head turning automatically.  He caught himself, though, and continued on his way, a line of tension in his shoulders that hadn’t been there a moment before.  Chanyeol looked down and realised his foot was visible – would have been in Baekhyun’s line of sight.  He’d been caught and recognised. 

“Starling is your friend?  The one you followed?” Angelique’s voice cut through his thoughts.

“Yes.  That is, if that was Starling, he’s my friend.”

“And you had no idea he did this.”

“That’s why I’m here.”

She looked thoughtful.  “I’m sure you’re probably wondering why he didn’t acknowledge you.  I saw him react just now,” she added.  “It’s not really my place to discuss other people’s subs, but for a friend…”

Something in the way she said it connected with something else Siberian had told him in the dim little closet masquerading as an office.  _Starling is a sub, so if you two decide you want to play around_ … Now, with an idea of what that entailed …

Chanyeol whipped around and searched the club.  Baekhyun had vanished thoroughly, but he saw one of the stages occupied by another pair.  Eyes wide, he stared.  He couldn’t help it.  Because now his brain was supplying him with the mental image of _Baekhyun_ tied to that post, _Baekhyun_ arching his back away from the paddle wielded by an expert hand…

“Why does he do that?” Chanyeol burst out.  “What’s the appeal?!”

Angelique offered a grim smile.  “What little I’ve heard from him is that he works in a stressful environment where he always has to be ‘on.’  He comes here to relax and let someone else take the reins for a while.”

“We do,” Chanyeol said absently, and drained his sprite.  “So why didn’t he even… I don’t know, say hi or something?  After I realised what…this place…was…”  He glanced around, unable to find the words he needed to describe it.  “I thought for sure he’d kill me if he saw me here.”

“As I said, this isn’t really my place.  But if I don’t explain it to you, you’ll never learn, right?”

Chanyeol looked back at her.  Something in the shape of her face seemed off, somehow.  “Right.  Actually… I’m not disgusted.”  He didn’t even know the words were going to come out until they were there in the space between them. 

“Intrigued?”

“Speculative.”

“You don’t understand the appeal.  Some people find pleasure in pain.  Starling is one of them.  He also enjoys letting Sarang tell him what to do.  It’s a relief to him, as I said.  Although if you’ve a mind to join and find a sub of your own, you’d best make an appointment with Sarang.  Or Lady Siyah, if you’d rather.”

“What’s the difference?”

“Sarang is a man, for one.”  Angelique grinned wolfishly at him.  “Unless I’m mistaken and you’re straight?”

Chanyeol considered this.  “As a winding road,” he said finally.  “I haven’t made a decision.”

“You’re not a virgin, are you?”

“Excuse me?”

Angelique leaned across the bar and cupped her hands around her mouth.  “ _Have. You. Had. Sex?_ ” she enunciated loudly.  Chanyeol flushed to the roots of his hair.

“Of course I have!”

“With who?”

“No one you know,” he muttered.  She laughed.

“I meant, man or woman.”

“Women.  Girls.  I haven’t had time lately.  Bae- er, Starling’s right.  We have a busy, demanding job.” 

She looked thoughtful.  “But you think you go both ways?”

“B- Starling is attractive.  I’d sleep with him if I thought he’d let me.”  The words slipped out.  Chanyeol eyed his glass suspiciously, wondering if there’d been more in it than just sprite.  Angelique took it in stride. 

“He is that,” she said.  “Well, I told you I’d explain some of this to you, didn’t I?  Starling is under orders right now.  He was to come straight to me, ask for the drink, and touch no one.”

Chanyeol glanced at her, curious.  “How do you know that?”

“It’s a common enough order.  Most of the subs are to keep silent unless spoken to, keep their eyes down and look no one in the face.  He almost forgot himself when he saw you.  If he had, he might have been punished for it, if Sarang saw him.”

Her words sent a stark chill down Chanyeol’s spine.  “What do you mean, punished?”

She nodded towards one of the lit stages.  A sub was being lashed to a sawhorse, arms and legs spread wide as the dom attached hooks to rings on his wrists and ankles.  Chanyeol turned to watch it happen, noticed the sub wiggle in anticipation.  The punishment started small, light taps and almost gentle.  After a few moments, the force increased until Chanyeol could hear the resounding _thwack_ of the paddle striking flesh even from his seat at the bar.  He flinched in commiseration. 

“I can’t even imagine that,” he said.  “It doesn’t hurt?”

“Oh, it does.  That’s the point.  But watch how the dom handles him, the way she’ll pause every few strikes and touch him.”

Now that he’d had it pointed out, he could see it.  With no discernible pattern, the dom would stop swinging every so often and stroke the sub’s legs and butt, sometimes reaching beneath him to fondle him or tweak a nipple.  Chanyeol found his breath coming fast. 

“It hurts like a sonofabitch,” Angelique said.  “But if they start slow and work up to it like that, it feels… Mm.”  She trailed off.  “You have no idea.  If you’d like, I can have Sarang arrange a meeting with you.  He trains most of the newbies.” 

An hour ago, Chanyeol would have refused flatly and walked away.  Now, however, he found himself intrigued.  It was definitely sexy… in a way.  And he wanted to know more about why Baekhyun would choose this.  Wondered what he got out of it that he kept coming back.  “I’d like that,” he found himself saying.


	3. Do You Wish To Be Trained?

The next morning, Chanyeol wandered, bleary-eyed and wrung-out, into the kitchen.  Baekhyun was already there, nursing a mug of coffee at the table.  Chanyeol froze when he saw him, and wondered if they’d have their aborted confrontation right then and there.  Baekhyun ignored him, inhaling the coffee-fumes with a grateful sigh.

“Good morning, Chanyeol,” he said pleasantly.  As if he hadn’t been caught last night at a sex club. 

“Good morning,” Chanyeol murmured, and fled the kitchen.  Afterward, face down on his bed, he wondered why he’d done it.  _Way to not stay under the radar with this,_ he berated himself.  _If you want to know, just ask him!_   But when Baekhyun ambled in some time later, Chanyeol watched him beneath half-closed eyes and said nothing.  He watched the singer catch sight of him and stop, then shake his head and smile.

“Still sleeping,” he murmured affectionately.  Chanyeol stayed where he was, preferring to see what Baekhyun would do.  Not much, as it turned out.  The singer collected some clothes from the closet and stripped his pyjamas off.  Chanyeol’s breath caught when he saw the red welts that striped Baekhyun’s entire back – as though someone had literally whipped him.  Baekhyun moved slowly, but they didn’t seem to pain him as he dressed.  Chanyeol shut his eyes totally as Baekhyun came closer and didn’t see him until the bed bounced.  “Wake up, sleepyhead!”

It was no different than any other morning Chanyeol slept in. The only thing that had changed was his awareness of the other singer and his knowledge of what lay beneath his clothes.  To disguise the unease he felt, Chanyeol threw one of his pillows, striking a laughing Baekhyun in the head.  It sparked a pillow fight that dispelled the lingering awkwardness Chanyeol was feeling.  Baekhyun had been doing this for months, he reasoned.  _Months._   That they were even aware of.  There was no reason anything had to change.  With the previous night’s experiences relegated to the back of his mind, Chanyeol made his bed and dressed, feeling like nothing _had_ changed. 

 

Two days later, he went back to the club.  Siberian was on door-duty again, and Chanyeol guessed that that was his job.  To his surprise, he was greeted warmly.

“New kid!  Welcome back!”  Siberian opened the door wide and admitted him.  “Still need a bracelet?”

Chanyeol nodded, wide-eyed.  “I still don’t know what I’m doing here.  I’m just going to watch tonight.  Maybe talk to Sarang.”

Siberian dug through the drawers again, searching for a pink bracelet.  With a triumphant shout, he brandished one and attached it to Chanyeol’s wrist.  “Sarang’s not here yet,” he said.  “Lady Siyah is, however, if you’d like to talk to her.”

Chanyeol considered it.  “I may,” he said.  But Sarang was the one Baekhyun went to, and so Sarang was the one he wanted to talk to.  He didn’t say that, however.  This time the music was quieter.  Less people drifted around the club; after a moment’s thought, Chanyeol realised the reason was the date; probably not many people were free on a Monday night to attend clubs such as this one.  Angelique was behind the bar, and waved cheerfully when she saw Chanyeol. 

“Have you decided on a name yet?” she asked him, pouring a drink for them both.  “Just soda again, unless you want something stronger?”

“No, I’m here to watch.  I don’t want to get drunk.”  He leaned back and considered.  “Liebe will do,” he said finally.  “Is that okay?”

Angelique looked thoughtful.  “Is that German?  No one’s claimed that name yet; it may as well go to you.”  She grinned.  “So, Liebe.  What brings you back?  Starling’s not here.”

“No, I know.  I wanted to see… when I wasn’t distracted.  And Siberian said Sarang’s not here, but if he shows up, I think I’d like to talk to him.”  The thoughtful look returned to Angelique’s face as she considered his words. 

“You’re thinking of joining?”

“More like a trial period,” Chanyeol said.  “I just want to know what… what…”

“What they get out of it.”  She nodded.  “I get it.  I did the same thing, not long after they hired me to bartend.”  She brightened.  “Speak of the devil, Liebe, because here’s Sarang.”

An attractive man not much older than Chanyeol stepped up to the bar, nodding to Angelique.  “I hear you’re a friend of Starling’s,” he said.  His voice was fluid and melodious, and Chanyeol was entranced.

“I am,” he said.  “I was worried at first, so I followed him.”

“And now you stay for curiousity’s sake.”  Sarang’s eyes flickered up and down his body, and for a moment Chanyeol felt stripped bare beneath his impersonal gaze.  “Well, you’re not bad to look at.  Why don’t we find one of the private rooms and see about a contract.”

With no idea what to expect, Chanyeol threw down some won for the soda and followed the older man.  There was an unmistakable air of command that surrounded him; subs and other doms alike deferred to him, bowing as he passed and murmuring, “Sarang,” in his wake, respectfully.  Chanyeol, by dint of following him, was accorded the same deferential nods.  He couldn’t even imagine what they thought of him – dressed in a teeshirt and jeans, following after Sarang like a – like a _sub._   Chanyeol scowled, and looked each and every one of them in the face.  Some were shocked by his brazenness.  Others smirked, and the look on their faces made Chanyeol feel like a piece of meat strung up at a butcher’s shop.  The thought of Baekhyun wandering practically-naked around these people left him with a proprietary anger surging through his veins, and that, more than anything else, surprised him into dropping his tough-guy act and turn inwards. 

There was nothing – nothing at all – between Baekhyun and himself.  He’d idly considered it before, usually while jerking off and picturing Baekhyun in bed with him; how not, when Baekhyun was one of the most beautiful people he’d ever met?  But there was something about this club and its atmosphere that made him want to take Baekhyun away and hide him from their lewd staring. 

Sarang led him agilely through the thin crowd to a door nestled between two empty stages.  It opened upon a bedroom – or what at first glance appeared to be a bedroom.  It contained a bed, at least, but that’s where the resemblance ended.  The bed was covered with satiny black sheets, and all manner of ropes and scarves and other, less identifiable things.  There were restraints on the walls, on the floors and hanging from the ceiling.  A wide, padded sawhorse like the one he’d seen on the floor the other night occupied one corner.  A wooden ‘X’ with restraints at each end took up another.  One wall was given to mirrors, and a bureau beside the bed gave a hint of verisimilitude to the room.  Chanyeol caught sight of his reflection, staring around gape-mouthed, and clamped his teeth together with an audible click. 

“What is this place?”

Sarang shut the door behind them.  “A playroom.  Starling’s room, actually; I’ve forbidden the others to use it.”

His jaw dropped again as he suddenly pictured Baekhyun on the bed, on the floor, on the sawhorse…

Chanyeol swallowed around a suddenly dry mouth.  “I don’t understand why you do the things you do and call it pleasure,” he said, with more nerve than he felt.  “I don’t understand what… Starling… gets from you that he can’t get anywhere else.”

Sarang reclined on the bed, smiling indulgently.  “Acceptance, for one,” he said.  “Are you condemning his choices?”

Half afraid to touch anything, Chanyeol sat on the floor, well away from anything incriminating.  “If that was the case, I wouldn’t be here talking to you, I’d be at home yelling at him.”

Sarang sat up and eyed him.  “You’re curious,” he said.  “Angelique and Siberian both told me about you at length.  Starling himself was unsettled when he returned from getting my drink Friday night.” 

Chanyeol stared back as long as he could, but the aura of power and dominance that surrounded the other man was palpable.  Chanyeol looked away first. 

“It was because he recognised you,” Sarang said softly.  “From your shoes.  He’s a good boy, my Starling.”  The tone was fond; if it had been anything else, Chanyeol might not have stayed to hear him out.  “He was terribly afraid to go home that night.  That’s when I asked Angelique about you.  She told me you were here out of concern alone, and that curiousity would bring you back.  And here you are.”

“Here I am.  I don’t know anything about this.  Siberian had to explain the meaning of ‘BDSM’ to me before he’d let me in.”

Sarang stared at him benignly.  “Do you love Starling?”

For some reason, the words took Chanyeol by surprise.  “Of course I do!  He’s my best friend.”

“Are you _in love_ with him?”

A split-hair distinction.  “I could be,” Chanyeol said, deciding to answer as honestly as he could.  “I could fall for him.  We’re perfectly matched in every way I can think of.  Not,” he added, “if he’s going to continue lying to me.”

“How is he lying?”

“His ‘errands.’  When he goes ‘out.’  He still hasn’t told me himself.  I saw him here, yes and you said he recognised me.  But he never said anything.”

“He was afraid.  He was afraid you would condemn him, would laugh at him.  Worse, spread rumours among your friends and… co-workers.”

“You know what his job is?”

“And yours.”  Sarang shrugged.  “Privacy is of the utmost importance here.”

The words rang a bell in Chanyeol’s memory.  “That’s what Siberian said, too.”

“If I have a motto, that’s probably it, at least as far as my club is concerned.  This is a place people come to escape from their lives.  Thus the need for code-names and some of our patron’s wear masks to protect their identity.  I know all, only because I conduct background checks on everyone who steps foot through that front door.”

“Why?”

“If privacy is our first concern, safety is a close second,” Sarang said.  “I don’t want to accept anyone convicted of rape, molestation, assault.  Anything that may harm others.  We screen our clients very carefully.  Anyone who returns more than three times must submit to testing for venereal diseases and other communicable viruses.”

Chanyeol considered this, too.  “So this is more than just a lark for you.  For a lot of these people.”

“For many of our patrons, it is a way of life.  Starling does not wish to live the life of a sub, and I, particularly, could not indulge him were he so inclined.  Some do.  Some are unable to function outside the dom/sub relationship.  But no, this is not just a ‘lark,’ as you so charmingly express it.”  He lapsed into a thoughtful silence.  Chanyeol looked around again, but was unable to banish the image of Baekhyun in this very room. 

After some time had passed, Sarang stirred again.  “So, we’ve talked.  Why did you come here tonight?”

The question was so out of the blue, Chanyeol didn’t stop to think about his answer.  “I want to learn,” he said, startled into honesty.  His face heated up, and he looked away, focusing his attention on the large ‘X’ restraint. 

“Would you take my place in Starling’s life?”

This time, he considered his words before he spoke them.  “Only if he wanted me to,” Chanyeol said.  “More than that, I want to … understand.  This…” he waved a hand to encompass the whole room.  “It’s… interesting.  I never even knew any of this stuff existed, to be interested in it before.  But now that I know…”

Sarang gave a warm smile.  “I am glad you came here to learn.  Not all clubs are as dedicated as mine.  There are worse clubs, worse parties, where subs are treated like cattle or slaves; animals.  Cruel doms who beat their subs for their own pleasure and cause harm.  And, too, it’s better for you to come here and learn than it is for you to strike out on your own and do harm unwitting to someone else.”

“Just one more question, for now,” Chanyeol said.  “Where do I _start_?”

Sarang looked over him languidly.  “Begin at the beginning, of course.  When Siberian took your application, you had no knowledge of subs or doms or ‘any of this stuff,’” he quoted.  “If you would learn, come here three nights from now, and I will train you as a sub.  When you have learned what it is to be on that side, then we will begin training you to dominance.  You have it in your personality, I think,” Sarang said, amused.  “The expression on your face tells me you find subbing distasteful, but it is necessary.  All of our doms begin thusly.  Tell me now, and truthfully: is this your wish, to be trained?”

Chanyeol was silent for a long time, considering it.  When he’d reached his decision, he looked up and met Sarang’s eyes.  “It is,” he said formally.  Sarang bounced off the bed and bowed to him. 

“Three nights from now.  That’s Thursday; are you free?”

“I should be.”

“I will see you then, at six in the evening.”


	4. First Lesson

Baekhyun was in bed reading when Chanyeol came back to the shared dorm.  He looked up curiously when Chanyeol entered the room, and raised an eyebrow silently. 

“You were gone a while,” he said.  “Where’d you go?”

To his surprise, Chanyeol found himself unwilling to discuss it with the other singer.  Suddenly, his previous reticence on the subject made a whole new world of sense.  “Out,” he said, stripping off his clothes.  Sarang had laughed at him when he’d asked what to wear, and refused to answer.  He pulled on his pyjamas in silence, contemplating his wardrobe and trying to decide what would cause the least amount of scandal in getting out the front door of the dorms, while still acceptable at Club SiyahSarang. 

When the silence went on for too long to be comfortable, Chanyeol glanced at Baekhyun and saw the slightly-older man staring askance at him. 

“What?”

Baekhyun jumped, startled.  “What aren’t you saying?”

“Where do you go on your errands?” Chanyeol asked.  Baekhyun looked away.

“Out,” he said.

“There you go.”  Chanyeol braced for a confrontation about the club encounter Friday night, but Baekhyun put his comic down and turned off his light in silence.  He’d have given pretty much anything to know what the other singer was thinking at that moment.  He was unwilling to start the confrontation himself, however, and he simply crawled into bed and slept. 

Baekhyun was gone when he woke up the next morning, and things were strained between them.  It got to the point that the other members noticed.  Suho confronted him in the hallway about it. 

“What’s going on between you and Baekhyun?”

Chanyeol paused, startled.  “Nothing.”  So far, it was true.  “Why?”

“Something’s not right.  You guys are messing us up with this silent fight, or whatever it is.  We’ve got a charity performance coming up on Saturday.  Get over it by then.”

Chanyeol agreed absentmindedly, his head already jumping ahead to Thursday, and then Saturday.  If Baekhyun’s patterns held, the night before or after the performance – that would make it Friday or Sunday – he’d claim an ‘errand’ and disappear for several hours.  The others didn’t think anything of it, and would assume he was going to a masseuse or the movies, or anything but the truth.  Chanyeol knew where he’d be going. 

They practiced hard during the days leading up to the weekend, determined to show their best efforts at the performance.  By the time Thursday rolled around, Chanyeol was so tense between anticipation of what the night would bring and the upcoming performance that he felt like a stiff wind would snap him in half.  As it got later and later, he found himself becoming restless and nervous, unable to sit still.  Baekhyun, who shared a bedroom with him, noticed it first.

“Chanyeol, what is your problem?  Sit down and stop pacing and talk to me.”

With an effort, Chanyeol forced himself onto the edge of his bed.  Baekhyun’s face was nothing but worried.  It made Chanyeol feel guilty for lying to him.  “I don’t know,” he said.  “I’m just… antsy.”  A glance at the clock said it was five thirty.  “I’m,” he said, and lunged off the bed.  “I’m going for a walk.  I’ll be back.” He practically ran from the room, leaving a bewildered Baekhyun behind. 

The others were gathered in the common area.  “We’re watching ‘Dawn of the Dead,’ Chanyeol!” Kyungsoo said, eager anticipation lighting his expression.  “Stay and watch it with us!”

“I’m going out!” Chanyeol said over his shoulder.  “I’ll be back.  Later.  See you!”  He fled. 

 

“Punctual.  Good.” 

Sarang met him at the door, with a gleeful Siberian hovering behind him.  Now that it was upon him, Chanyeol felt the weight of what he was about to undertake pressing down on him.  Sarang led him through the swelling crowd to the same room they’d convened in the first time; Baekhyun’s room, Chanyeol thought of it as.  The sheets were the same.

He lingered in the doorway.  “Are they clean?”

Sarang gave him an impatient stare.  “Everything is cleaned thoroughly.  Didn’t I tell you we’re conscious of spreading diseases here?  Speaking of which, you’ll need to be tested.”

Chanyeol reached into his pocket and withdrew some papers.  “I already have been,” he said.  “It came back negative.” 

Sarang took the papers and looked over them thoroughly.  “Good job,” he said. Chanyeol felt a flush of warmth at his praise.  “Do you need these, or do you have copies of your own?”

“I have a copy at home,” he said.  Sarang nodded.

“We’ll keep these on file.  You’ll need to be tested every six months, just to be safe.  We don’t take chances.”

“I understand.”  He crossed his arms over his chest and took a deep breath.  “So, how do we start?  I mean, I still…” 

Sarang crossed the room and let one hand trail over his hair, down his neck and shoulders.  “First of all, you need to relax.”  Chanyeol took another deep breath, let it out.  The tension that had taken up residence in his muscles refused to leave.  “Seriously, relax, or you’re going to be hurt.”

“Isn’t that the point?”

Sarang shot him a dirty look.  “Seriously hurt, and not in the scene.  _Relax,_ ” he ordered again.  “If you were better trained,” he muttered direly.  Chanyeol’s expression was alarmed.

“That’s why I’m here, right?  Training.  What does that mean?”

Sarang’s expression softened.  “If you were a fully-trained sub, I could order you to relax and you would, regardless.”

The implications were heady.  “Really?”

“Mm.”  Sarang looked thoughtful for a moment, then gestured.  “Take your shirt off and get on the bed.”

“ _What?_ ”

“First lesson!” Sarang barked.  “Do not question me!  Just do as I say.”

Chanyeol, surprised and a little frightened by the tone of his voice, hurried to obey.  Stripped to the waist, he kicked his shoes off and left his jacket, shirt, and shoes in a neat pile beside the door.  “Um, stomach or back?”  He yearned to ask what Sarang was doing, but he hadn’t forgotten that he was dealing with a man who was perfectly capable of whipping him.  The whips were hanging in the open bureau, along with dozens of other things Chanyeol had no name for.  He shivered.  _First lesson, don’t ask questions, _he thought, committing it to memory.__

“On your stomach.”

Chanyeol lay on the bed, his head pillowed in his arms.  He was so tense he could feel the line of every individual muscle as it quivered. 

“Sometimes,” Sarang said, startling Chanyeol with his nearness, “but not always, I have slept with my subs and trainees.”

A scarlet rage descended over Chanyeol, and he might not have stayed to listen had Sarang not continued immediately.

“Starling is one of the ones I have not.  You are another.  We will need to discuss other aspects of this tonight.   Do you understand?  You may speak.”

   “Y-Yes,” Chanyeol said.  “What do I call you?”

“Lord Sarang will do, or Master.  God, if you want.”  Sarang’s voice was gently amused.  “You understand that you are to do nothing unless I instruct you?”

“Yes, master.”

“Very nice.”  The mattress dipped as Sarang climbed onto the bed.  Unbelievably, Chanyeol became even more tense.  “Shh.  The second rule is safe words.  Do you know these?”

“No.”

A hand swatted his ass.  It stung slightly, but more galling was the embarrassment of it.  “No, what?”

“No, lord Sarang.”

“The most common, and easiest to remember for those starting out are ‘red’ and ‘yellow.’  These words are inviolate.  You are not to abuse them, and I am bound to obey them no matter what.  If the scene is too much, and you need to slow down, ‘yellow.’  Repeat it.”

“Yellow,” Chanyeol said.  “In case I need you to slow down.”

“Very good.  Red means stop.  If you cannot handle something, if it is beyond your limits and capabilities, the safe-word is red.  Say that and everything stops, immediately.  Do you understand?”

“Yes master. Red to stop everything.”

“Use it if you need to, but _only_ if you need to.  Do not try to be brave and withhold it if you truly need to stop.”

“I understand.”  By this time, Chanyeol was quivering like a drawn bow.  The idea of safe-words was comforting on one hand, and utterly terrifying on the other. 

“The other thing we need to discuss immediately is sex.  Ordinarily I would not discuss one of my subs with another, and I hope you understand that anything that occurs between us is _between us._   Like a priest with confession, I will divulge details to no one.  In your case, here and now, I will make a comparison between you and Starling, as you’ve both admitted to me that you’re friends.  Starling, when he is here, comes to forget the stress and tension of his life.  What you will gain from this, I can’t say.  Maybe nothing.  Maybe a great deal.  It’s all up to you, in the end.  He finds pleasure in it, yes, because he is made that way.”

Chanyeol took a breath and interrupted.  “Master, Angelique told me that.  She said Starling finds pleasure in pain.”  He flinched, waiting to be hit again, but Sarang simply ran the tips of his fingers down Chanyeol’s spine, as though he were petting a cat.  It wasn’t entirely unpleasant. 

“Yes.”  He paused, and Chanyeol risked a glance at him.  He looked pensive.  “It really doesn’t sit well with me, discussing Starling with you.  But you need to know.  I touch him,” he said suddenly.  “With my hands only.  For penetration, there are toys.  They are his, and only he uses them.  You may wish to start a collection of your own.  They are kept clean and well-tended, as everything else is.  I sleep with some of my subs, as I said.  If you decide, in the end, that you wish to remain a sub, and mine, and that sex is a course you’d like to pursue, we can discuss it then.  New subs and other doms – and some, like Starling, who choose not to – you do not have to worry about that.  Do you have questions?”

Chanyeol felt his face flame in embarrassment.  Somehow it was easier, though, knowing that Sarang was a stranger, and had discussed these things with Baekhyun as well.  “So no… outright sex. That’s good, I’m not sure… with a man, I don’t think my first time ought to be in a … BDSM setting.”

Sarang chuckled.  “And?”

“No, uh… oral sex, either, right?”

“No.”

“Hands?”

“If you wish.”

“Oh.” 

“Now, you need to relax.  If you have questions, ask.  If not, remain as silent as possible.”  Sarang moved around above and behind him, and Chanyeol, expecting the worst, squeezed his eyes closed.  The touch, when it came, wasn’t a swat or anything painful at all.  Something popped and the scent of strawberries rose in the air.  Sarang’s hands came down on his shoulders and began a skillful massage, greased by oil.  It was so far removed from anything Chanyeol had been expecting that he almost laughed out loud.  Strong fingers dug into the knots of muscle in his back, loosening them until he relaxed with a sigh. 

“Very good,” Sarang murmured, loud enough to be heard; and yet, soft enough not to interrupt the hazy cloud Chanyeol found himself drifting in.  When the massage reached the waistband of his jeans, Sarang stopped and pulled away.  Distantly, Chanyeol was aware of him getting off the bed and washing his hands in the next room.  “Are you comfortable with nudity?”

“Hmm?”

“Get up and take your jeans off,” Sarang said, a hint of command to his voice.  Chanyeol obeyed, and it occurred to him why people would submit like this.  It was nice to have someone else think of what needed to be done.  He didn’t feel like moving, but he didn’t want to know what Sarang would do if he disobeyed a direct order, either.  He thought about whether or not he was comfortable going naked, and paused.

“Lord Sarang, are we staying in here?”

“For the first few days,” Sarang said.  “Later we will go out on the floor and make use of the stages.  Are you afraid of being looked at?”

“No.  Not really.  Um, well, a little.  Master.  Like this, I am.”  He gestured to himself, and then hooked his thumbs into both his jeans and his boxers, dropping them both and stepping out of them.  They were folded neatly and added to the pile.  Averting his eyes, he stood still while Sarang looked him over. 

“Clothes will be provided.”

Remembering the gauzy, sheer thing Baekhyun had been wearing the first time Chanyeol had come to the club, he bit back on a laugh. 

“We will start small,” Sarang announced, and rummaged through a bag Chanyeol hadn’t noticed before.  He ripped open packaging, leaving plastic shrapnel on the floor where it fell.  “You see, everything is new for you.  There is no cost to being admitted as a member of Club SiyahSarang; we rely on donations from patrons.  Some give more than others, and some are unable to give anything at all.  We are well off, however, and as part of the health-rules, nothing that is to be used on a regular basis by one person may be used by anyone else.  Do you understand?”

“Everything you give me is mine, and I won’t be using anything of anyone else’s,” Chanyeol summarized.  He was beginning to get nervous again, simply standing there, and the tension dispelled by the massage was creeping back.  “Yes, master,” he added.  That was going to be a sticking point, he could tell. 

When Sarang was done, he was surrounded by little bits of leather.  Chanyeol blinked at them.  “These go on your wrists,” Sarang told him, fastening one leather band around his wrist.  Chanyeol examined it while he attached the second one.  The bands were simple leather straps, connecting with Velcro, and D-rings attached to either side.  The feel of the cool leather against the insides of his wrists set his heart beating faster.   “These go on your ankles,” Sarang continued, and knelt to attach the other two to his legs.  They were the same; slightly larger. 

“Does the Velcro hold?”

Sarang grinned up at him.  “It does.  It’s also safer; if something goes wrong, it’s easy for me to unhook them, instead of fumbling with buttons, lacing, ties, straps, or anything else.  All restraints are Velcro here.”

This made increasing sense to Chanyeol.  The whole thing still seemed mad, but the claims of privacy – for Chanyeol had noticed Sarang revealed nothing of his other subs, and only told him what he needed to hear about Baekhyun – and safety were being upheld.  “Okay, what now?”

Sarang stood back.  “You look fantastic in restraints,” he murmured.  “You really are very beautiful.  I wonder what you and Starling would look like together, Liebe?”

Chanyeol’s eyes widened, and the blood rushed to his cheeks as he considered it.  “Um,” he said.  Sarang laughed, and withdrew a scrap of black fabric. 

“No need to worry about it now.  By the way,” he added.  “I will not be informing Starling of your presence here.  If you want him to know, that’s a discussion you’re going to have to have yourselves.  Understand?”

“Yes, master.”

Sarang stepped forward and wrapped the fabric – a blindfold, Chanyeol belatedly realised – around his eyes, tying it at the back.  “Does that pull on your hair?”

“No.”

“Can you see?”

“Just a little bit of light.”

“Good.  You’ll be calmer if you don’t know what’s coming at you.  It also makes things more intense.  Do not forget the safe-words.”

“Yes, master.  Red to stop, yellow to slow down.”

“Very good.”  Sarang petted him then, stroking his hair.  It should have felt condescending and annoying.  It didn’t.  The gentle caress, combined with the positive words had a strange effect on him, and Chanyeol found himself preening under the praise.  He wanted to be good, he discovered.  He wanted to hear Sarang be proud of him.

Sarang took him by the shoulders, and lead him… somewhere.  Not being able to see was disconcerting.  He realised what it was when Sarang pushed him down over a padded leather surface, taking one of his hands and attaching something to the D-ring on his bracelet.  When he lifted his arm experimentally, he found it wouldn’t move more than an inch or so.  His other limbs were similarly bound, and when he was done, Chanyeol realised he couldn’t move at all, no matter how hard he struggled against it.  There was about an inch of give, between the ring and the clip, but the way he was stretched out…  It left him feeling exposed and obscene, and yet… breathless.

“For your next lesson,” Sarang said, and sounded a little out of breath himself, “I will demonstrate that not all pain is a bad thing.”  Whatever it was he used, then, Chanyeol couldn’t tell.  It was wide and flat, and struck him so gently it was just a touch.  Chanyeol clenched his fingers and relaxed.  He’d seen this same thing on the floor.  Angelique had explained it, too; the slow build-up made it bearable.  The next swat was a little bit harder, stung a little.  The third came down on the other side, and then Sarang’s hand, gloved in silk, soothed the hurt.  The stinging pain made the smooth, dexterous stroking that much more vivid.

“Oh,” he said, involuntarily.

“I see you begin to understand,” Sarang said, approval warming his voice. 

“Yes, master,” Chanyeol said, and received another swat.  He jerked in the bonds, more from the surprise than the pain.  It was beginning to hurt, just a little.  But his breath was coming faster, too.  He began to anticipate Sarang’s gloved hands on his heated skin, knowing that it felt so good.  Before long, he was panting outright, gasping and crying out with every blow.  They were falling hard, too, Sarang grunting with the effort of swinging the paddle.  Then one silk-lined hand slipped beneath his stomach and fondled his burgeoning erection, and a whole new aspect of the game was opened up to him. 

Stroking him with one hand while the other laid into his backside with the paddle – all he could think of was how hard he was, how deep the orgasm started coiling inside.  It was something he never, _ever_ expected – that he would actually _come,_ that it was more than just pain, that it would be the most powerful orgasm he’d ever experienced.

It was all that and more. 

Limp and wrung out, Chanyeol allowed Sarang to undo the hooks on his arms and legs and slithered bonelessly to the floor when he was released.  “Will you be back?” Sarang asked.  Chanyeol had to bring his mind back from a long distance to understand and answer him.

“Lord Sarang, I will,” he murmured. 

The smug smile was evident in his tone.  “I thought so.”


	5. "I'm a bartender. I don't do happy hugs and flowers."

“Can you get home alright?”  Now that the scene was over, Sarang was carefully solicitous.  Chanyeol would have appreciated it more if it wasn’t interfering with his buzz.  His body was humming in the aftermath of devastating pleasure, such as he’d never even known with the girls he’d slept with in high school. 

“It’s only a short walk,” Chanyeol insisted, pulling on his clothes.

“Very well,” Sarang said.  “Just know that once you step foot out the front door, we are no longer accountable for your safety.  You can still be struck by a car, or mugged.”

“Maybe lightning will fall out of the sky and strike me dead,” Chanyeol muttered.  “I’ll be fine.”

“One last thing,” Sarang said, and produced something from his pocket.  “Until your training is over, I expect you to wear this at all times in my presence, do you understand?”  The tone of command was back in his voice.  Chanyeol submitted patiently while Sarang fastened the thing around his neck.  In the mirror, he saw that it was a necklace, a simple black string with a charm dangling from it.  Upon closer inspection, he realised it was a stylized “S” with a tiny, engraved sign beneath it.  The sign read “Liebe.” Chanyeol blinked at it.  “It signifies that you are my sub.  It identifies you as claimed to the other doms, and is a sign of my domination.  I don’t care what you do with it when you’re not here,” Sarang added carelessly.  “But do not.  _Under any circumstances,_ lose it.  Do you understand?”

“Yes, master,” Chanyeol said.  It was oddly touching.  He let himself out of the room and half-staggered through the crowded floor. 

When he made it back to the dorm, he was surprised to realise the whole encounter had taken less than two hours.  It wasn’t even eight o’clock yet.  Moving on autopilot, for halfway home a bone-deep tiredness had settled into him, he let himself into his room, and – ignoring Baekhyun’s startled yelp – fell face first across his bed. 

“Where have you been?” Baekhyun demanded. 

“Out,” Chanyeol mumbled.  Without even undressing or bothering to take his shoes off, Chanyeol fell asleep right then and there.

 

Baekhyun was gone again when he woke up.  Since Baekhyun usually woke up before him, this wasn’t alarming.  The fact that his shoes were missing, and someone had covered him with a blanket was.  His hand went first to the necklace Sarang had given him, and he sighed with relief to realise it was still around his neck.  He took it off and shoved it under his pillow.  Then, fearing that wasn’t safe enough, he went to his jewelry box and hid it in one of the little drawers among his earrings. 

When the initial burst of panic-fueled adrenaline had worn off, he found himself stiff and sore.  He stretched and winced, half-afraid to look in case he found bruises.  Grateful that they at least had private showers, he took some clean clothes into the bathroom with him.

Clean and dry and dressed in fresh clothes, he found himself feeling better.  He still felt relaxed, languid, and had a sudden insight into Baekhyun’s motivation for seeking out the club, and Sarang.  Wandering into the sitting room, he found Kyungsoo and Kai on the couch, and Sehun stretched out on the floor, watching cartoons. 

“Suho and Baekhyun went to get coffee,” Sehun said when he noticed Chanyeol in the doorway.  “Apparently we’re out.”

Chanyeol grunted in reply, and turned back around.  On a whim, he looked through Baekhyun’s jewelry box.  At the very bottom, beneath a pile of bracelets, he found a necklace that looked just like his.  The little sign on the bottom read “Starling,” though.  If he’d had any doubts, the discovery of the necklace dispelled them.  He hurriedly put everything back together, and returned to the living room just in time to see Baekhyun and Suho burst in through the front door, laughing hard and soaking wet.

“It started raining,” Suho explained.  Baekhyun sobered when he saw Chanyeol, and for a moment there was an awkward silence between them.  Sehun broke it by bounding up to Baekhyun and demanding the coffee. 

He was disappointed by the newfound awkwardness between them, and wondered how long it would take Baekhyun to confront him over it.  As it turned out, not long at all. 

“Where were you last night?”

Chanyeol glanced up from the lyrics he was reading, confused.  “What?”

“Last night.  Mysterious disappearances.  Ringing any bells?”  Baekhyun closed the door behind him and leaned against it.  Chanyeol set the lyrics aside and folded his arms across his chest.

“Mysterious errands,” he said.  Baekhyun blanched.  “Unexplained disappearances.  Are those ringing bells?”

“I do have friends and a life outside of Exo, you know,” Baekhyun said.

“So do I.  And you’re not my mother; I’m not answerable to you over what I do in my free time.”

Baekhyun scowled.  “Were you at the club last Friday night?”

There was no way to weasel out of that one.  Chanyeol flinched.  “I was,” he said slowly.  Baekhyun went white.  “But it’s like I just said to you.  I’m not your mother either, and you’re not answerable to me about what you do in your free time.”

“You won’t tell the others?”

“It’s none of my business.” 

Trembling, Baekhyun nodded jerkily, and fumbled for the doorknob before stumbling out of the room backwards.  When Chanyeol emerged a few minutes later, he was told by Kai that Baekhyun – looking like the hounds of hell were after him – had left on one of his ‘errands.’  Chanyeol sighed, and wondered if it was going to drive them apart.  What could they do, bond over Sarang’s methods of punishment?  Chanyeol had been expecting Baekhyun to run to him tonight anyway, seeing as how they had a performance the next day, but he didn’t like thinking that he was the cause of such haste.

And Baekhyun had forgotten his necklace.  Chanyeol was half-tempted to follow him to the club again, just to see if Sarang would make good on his threat over appearing without it, but decided discretion was the better part of valour.  He chose instead to watch a movie with the others, lounging on the floor beside Sehun, who spent the entire time texting Luhan.

 

The charity performance at the children’s hospital went over without a hitch, and they performed the new song – a heavily synthesized cover of a popular lullaby – to great applause.  When they arrived home, Baekhyun changed and fell into bed, clearly exhausted, but Chanyeol found himself thrumming with excess energy.  While Baekhyun slept, he retrieved the necklace Sarang had given him and slipped out of their shared room, and from there left to visit the club.

It had just opened, and only one or two patrons were there with their subs.  Siberian smiled warmly to see Chanyeol.

“Liebe,” he said.  “Welcome back.  Sarang’s not here yet, but Angelique said she missed you.  And Sarang said you’ve got a Claim on you, and don’t need a bracelet anymore.”  He opened the door wide and gave Chanyeol a hug, kissing him on the cheek and patting his ass before allowing him inside.  Chanyeol felt his face flame in embarrassment, but otherwise let it pass.  Angelique greeted him just as happily.

“We saw Starling last night.  I guess if you two haven’t sorted things out yet, it might not be a good idea for you to be here at the same time, right?  He was in a right state last night, let me tell you.  What did you _do_ to him?”

Chanyeol was offended.  “What makes you think I did anything to him?”

“Because before you started coming here, he was always super polite and super nice, and super submissive, but he actually showed up without his Claim.”

Chanyeol pulled the necklace from his pocket.  “This?” he asked.  Angelique whistled in appreciation. 

“That.  You know it’s against the rules to show up without it.  I’d put it on, if I were you, before Sarang gets here, whether you’re here for him or not.”

Chanyeol obeyed, eventually asking her to fasten the clasp for him when he couldn’t do it.  She leaned across the bar and helped him, stroking his neck. 

“You’ve got such soft skin.  I’m kinda jealous.” 

Chanyeol shivered.  Angelique offered him a wicked grin.

“Sensitive, too,” she noted.  “Should I tell Starling?”

This time Chanyeol shivered for an entirely different reason.  “No, thank you.  He’s already not speaking to me because I followed him here last week.  If he knew I was coming back…”  He sighed, his face falling.  “He’s my best friend.  I don’t want to lose him over something like this place.”

Angelique poured him a drink.  Expecting more sprite, he knocked it back, then choked and sputtered when it burned a fiery track down his throat.

When he got his breath back, he gasped out, “Are you trying to kill me?”

“No!  Cheer you up,” she said.  “I’m a bartender.  I don’t do happy hugs and flowers.”

“Duly noted,” Chanyeol wheezed.  He took the second glass she offered and sipped it more slowly.  Watermelon-flavoured vodka.  It wasn’t bad, actually, and after his third shot the lights in the club had taken on a fuzzy look, and he was feeling warm and friendly.  A proprietary hand in his hair startled him, and he looked up with a smile into Sarang’s serious face. 

“Good evening, Lord Sarang,” he said, and was proud of himself for remembering the honourific.

“How much has he had to drink?” Sarang asked, directing the question at Angelique.

“Couple of shots,” she said.  “Nothing serious; I figured him for a lightweight.”

“Hey!”

Sarang tugged on his hair.  The pain was sharp and made his eyes water, but his body remembered the last time pain and Sarang had come together, and translated it into a slow-burning pleasure that ignited in his gut and stole his breath.  “Are you here for me?”

“Just needed out of the house,” Chanyeol muttered.  “Are you free tonight?”

“If I’m not, what will you do?”

“Keep drinking!”

“I’m free.”

Chanyeol smiled widely.  Angelique covered a smile behind her hand, but sobered when Sarang glared at her over it.  “He’s just cute,” she defended herself.  Sarang’s hand tightened in his hair, and Chanyeol’s breath caught.

“Oh, I didn’t think that would feel good,” he murmured.  Sarang smiled. 

“I have something in mind for tonight.”

 

Back in the room, Chanyeol noticed the sheets were now red.  “Decadent,” he commented, and was rewarded with a swat on the ass.  Chastened, he lowered his eyes.  “Sorry, Master.”

“Do not forget again.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Strip.”

Chanyeol peeled off his clothes and folded them neatly, as before, and stood by while Sarang wrapped his wrists and ankles with the restraints.  This time there was no massage, and no blindfold, and Chanyeol correctly assumed that Sarang decided the alcohol would provide a sufficient buffer between his fear and his desire. 

Also prodding him to it was the memory of the padded sawhorse and the paddling he’d received while bent over it.  His face flushed with memory, and he went obediently when Sarang indicated the wooden “X” shape in the corner.  He’d been wondering what it would be like to be tied to it. 

It spread his legs wider than he was comfortable with, and left him feeling exposed, but with the alcohol burning a path through his veins he took it in stride without complaining. 

“We’re doing things a little differently tonight,” Sarang murmured at his ear.  Chanyeol could hear plastic tearing, and wondered again at what new thing Sarang had devised for him.  “This should be interesting.” He puttered around the room while Chanyeol contemplated the wall that was all he could see in front of him, and surprised the rapper when he suddenly touched the back of his neck.  “I’ll need you to relax, and trust me.  I’m sure it won’t come easily, but trust the safe-words, remember to use them if you need to, and relax.” 

Chanyeol took a deep breath and relaxed as much as he was able, given the uncomfortable way the X-restraint held him spread-eagled, but when he felt gloved hands at his ass, he tensed up right away. 

“Relax,” Sarang murmured.  “Remember what I’ve told you.”

 _No sex.  Red for stop, yellow for slow.  No penetration except for toys – ah, it must be a toy._   No sooner was that conclusion reached than he felt something small and hard press into him.  Expecting some sort of dildo, he was surprised when the intrusion stopped after one little pop.  Then another.  And another.  They were growing larger, and with his free hand, Sarang reached around his torso to stroke his cock, which was stirring under the attention. 

“What are those?” Chanyeol gasped out.

“Anal beads,” Sarang said.  “Special ones.”

“What?”

Something clicked, and suddenly the string of beads inside his body began to hum and vibrate, pressing against each other and the walls of his ass.  Chanyeol yelped and surged away from the unfamiliar sensation, his stomach coming into contact with the crossed wooden beams.  It did no good either way, for the feeling followed right along with him, shifting slightly as he moved.  “Oh my god!”  the words burst out of him in a ragged gasp, because he’d never imagined that something could feel like that.  Good, almost.  Mostly _weird._

“They’re meant to be pulled out, slowly,” Sarang whispered in his ear.  “But I’m thinking I’ll leave them inside you for a little while.  This is all in the name of training, of course.”

“Of course, master,” Chanyeol gasped, trying to imagine what it would feel like coming back _out._  

Sarang stepped back, and then something indescribable struck Chanyeol’s back.  It felt soft, but it was hard in a way as well; it left a tingling sensation in its wake, and he squirmed, feeling the beads shift around again. 

“What is that?”

“Silk flogger,” Sarang said, and brought it around for Chanyeol to see.  It had a solid plastic handle, curved for easy gripping.  One end sprouted silk fabric scraps, almost like a cheerleader’s pompoms.  Chanyeol shivered.  The thing disappeared from his sight and this time Chanyeol could hear the slight displacement of air as Sarang swung it.  Again it left a tingly trail down his back. 

“It tickles,” Chanyeol said, and then the blows fell in earnest, some gently like a soft whisper against his skin and sometimes harder, feeling like fire.  His whole back was sensitized by the onslaught, and his hips moved of their own volition.  The cross-joint of the X was too high for him to get any friction where he wanted it, but the beads continued to shift.  They brushed up against something deep inside him that made Chanyeol shout, and caused Sarang to leave off the flogging and step towards him, putting his hands on Chanyeol’s ass and massaging it, moving the beads with more intent.  Chanyeol felt the heat of his body like a physical presence and clutched helplessly at the bonds that held his hands above his head.  “Oh, please,” he breathed, needing something more.  Sarang chuckled, and Chanyeol heard another click.  The vibrations of the beads became stronger, and then slowly – so slowly! – Sarang pulled the largest out of his body. 

It was a glorious sensation, and he vacantly wondered what it would be like to feel the rest of them withdrawn.  Unfortunately, Sarang stopped with just one, which also had the effect of straightening the others out so that they rested against that spot inside him.  His hips moved faster, trying find much-needed friction.  Sarang stroked him once, twice, and then pulled away, drawing a helpless cry from Chanyeol. 

The flogging began again, a delicious torment like nothing else he could have imagined.  The vibrating beads inside him set sparks and fireworks off behind his eyes, and the tiny pain of the silk flogger transmuted into unspeakable pleasure.  Then suddenly, something more solid struck him.

It should have hurt.  It felt like the silk flogger, with hundreds of little tendrils attached, except they were rubber instead of scraps of fabric.  It felt wonderful after the silk.  Chanyeol found himself begging without knowing what he was pleading _for_ , only knowing the pleasure that kept mounting but wouldn’t crest.  

Cruel in his creativity, Sarang traded off between the silk and rubber floggers, the silk sensitizing Chanyeol’s skin while the rubber felt like it should have flayed him alive. 

“ _Please,_ please, please, please,” Chanyeol begged, mindless. 

“Do you want to come?”

“Oh god please yes let me please!”

The floggers dropped audibly to the floor, and Sarang stepped up behind him again, this time pressing his full weight into Chanyeol’s body.  One hand came around to stroke his leaking erection and the other grasped the beads and yanked them out, agonizingly slow.  Just before the last one popped free of his body, Sarang leaned forward and breathed in Chanyeol’s ear.  “Come,” he commanded.  Chanyeol’s orgasm crashed over him like a wave breaking against the shore, washing him away.

When awareness returned, he was free of the X-restraints and laying across the silk sheets of the bed.  His back was on fire, his ass throbbed, and he felt weak and utterly drained.  His whole body thrummed in the aftermath of extreme pleasure.

“You’re a delight to work with, Liebe,” Sarang said softly.  “Will you make it home alright?”

“Of course I will,” Chanyeol muttered.  With an effort of will, he dragged himself up off the bed and dressed slowly.  After leaving the club, he took the necklace off and slipped it into his pocket.  It was late this time, nearly ten o’clock in the evening.  As before, he made it into his room, noted absently that Baekhyun was nowhere to be found, and fell across his bed, asleep before he hit the mattress.


	6. There Are None So Blind (Baekhyun Interlude)

Baekhyun was getting increasingly worried about Chanyeol.  He’d talked to the rest of Exo-K, and learned only that the rapper had been worried about him for months.  For several weeks, he talked about where Baekhyun went on his ‘errands’ and wondered aloud at the necessity of secrecy.  That he’d followed Baekhyun that Friday night was no secret.

“He’s just worried about you,” Sehun said.  “We all were, but mostly him.  Do you think he likes you?”

Baekhyun shivered at the memory.  _Did_ Chanyeol like him?  He liked the rapper.  It was one of the things he and Sehun had bonded over – their unrequited love for their band-mates.  But his visits to Sarang were secret and sacrosanct.  He still hadn’t figured out how he felt about Chanyeol following him to Club SiyahSarang.  And now, this. 

Once again, Chanyeol was curled up in his bed fully clothed – he hadn’t even bothered to take his shoes off.  Whatever he was doing when he went out, it was exhausting him to dangerous levels. 

 _“You’re not my mother and it’s none of your business,_ Chanyeol’s words echoed in his head.    _“I’m not your mother, either, and it’s none of my business what you do._   So he said, but he knew about the club.  He knew.

He _knew._   And he did nothing.  Said nothing.  None of the other members had asked him, except Sehun, and he hadn’t revealed the secret.  Baekhyun knew about that only because he’d accidentally overheard them in the kitchen one morning.  Chanyeol had gotten up before him for once, and he was in the hallway, listening to them because he’d heard his name.

“So you followed him to wherever he goes.  Was Suho right, was it a masseuse?”

“Kind of,” Chanyeol said, evasively.  “It really wasn’t all that exciting.  Can you pass me the sugar?”

It was eating Baekhyun up inside.  _Why_ hadn’t he told anyone?  Why hadn’t he even confronted Baekhyun over it?  It made no _sense!_

And now, suddenly, their roles were reversed.  Baekhyun’s mystery was solved, and Chanyeol was creating a mystery of his own.  He went somewhere.  It was irregular; he could discern no pattern to Chanyeol’s disappearances.  He was half-tempted to follow the rapper and give back some of what he’d gotten, but he just wasn’t that interested in violating the other singer’s privacy. 

Baekhyun sighed and untied Chanyeol’s sneakers, pulling them off his feet.  He pushed him slightly until he rolled free of the blanket, and then pushed him again so that Baekhyun could cover him.  He moved without waking, simply snoring lightly.  There were dark smudges under his eyes as though he weren’t sleeping well, but then what would account for his coma-like sleeping habits on the nights when he went out?

 _Is he on drugs?_   The thought was sudden, and frightening.  It could be drugs; it would explain a lot of things.  His evasiveness, the lack of sleep, the irregular hours.  Baekhyun resolved to ask him about it when he woke up.

 

Another curious thing Baekhyun noticed.  When Chanyeol woke up these days, his hand went immediately to his throat, as though he were searching for something.  It was worrisome, and he couldn’t decide what it meant.  Short of breaking his own silent promise not to interfere – unless it was drug abuse – there was nothing he could do to find out why.  But the mystery continued to press on him. 

He cornered Chanyeol in their shared bedroom one afternoon, the night before they were to appear on a television show.  He was ready to leave, and had made an appointment with Sarang as soon as he heard about the T.V. appearance, but knowing he was about to go to his peculiar release, he decided it was a good time to confront the rapper.

“Are you on drugs?” he asked, point blank.  Chanyeol blinked at him, owlishly, and then burst into startled laughter.  It made Baekhyun’s heart beat faster to hear it.

“No, of course not.  Why would you even think that?”

“You’ve been acting weird lately,” Baekhyun told him.  “I’m just worried about you.”

Chanyeol bounced off his bed and hugged Baekhyun, ruffling his hair.  “It’s not drugs.  Don’t worry.  You go have fun tonight.”

Baekhyun’s eyes widened.  “What?”

Chanyeol rolled his eyes.  “Everyone knows you go out before we do anything as a group,” he said.  “I just happen to know where you go.  Be safe.”  With that cryptic blessing, Chanyeol threw himself back onto the bed and went back to the comic he was reading.  It was disorienting and bewildering, and he wasn’t sure what to make of it.  Chanyeol knew.

He knew that he’d known.  They’d almost had an argument over it when he found out.  But of all possible responses, he certainly wasn’t expecting his bandmate to be so… blasé about it.  _Have fun, be safe?  How much does he **know?**_

The mystery of it followed him all the way to Club SiyahSarang, and it wasn’t until the Claim collar settled around his throat and he gave himself over to the mindless pleasure of being a sub in Sarang’s service that he was able to put it out of his head. 

And Sarang, no stranger to his moods after so long, fathomed it immediately.  “Have you had another argument with Chanyeol, Starling?”

Baekhyun started.  “I have,” he said softly.  “He came here once, following me, to find out where I went.  I told you how afraid I was of them finding out.  I didn’t know what they’d think.”  For some reason, Sarang’s lips twitched, but he motioned silently for Baekhyun to go on.  “But he seems to have taken it in stride.  We nearly got into a fight over it, at first, but now it’s just… it’s just nothing.  He told me to have fun and be safe.”  Baekhyun scowled.  “What does he even know about it?”

Sarang’s lips twitched again.  “A great deal more than you’d imagine, I gather, if he’s being so calm about your situation.  He understands, at least, correct?  Then why are you here with me, instead of out partying with him?”

Horror washed through him with an icy dread.  “I can’t.  He wouldn’t understand this, I know he wouldn’t.  He’s not… I mean, he’s so… innocent.”

Sarang did laugh at that.  “Ah, Starling.  There are none so blind as those who will not see.  I love you all the more for it, however.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means, Starling my love, that you need to get me another drink.  Get one for yourself if you’d like.”

Baekhyun nodded his acquiescence and approached Angelique, keeping his eyes down until she acknowledged him.  The transvestite gave him the creeps, in some ways; despite the hips and the breasts, he knew it was a man underneath.  She wanted to be treated as a woman, however, and Baekhyun wasn’t going to argue with him. Her. 

“Good evening, Starling,” she said politely.  “The usual for Sarang?”

“Please,” he said.  “And something a little stronger than usual for me, please.”

She eyed him askance. 

“I have permission,” Baekhyun said, unable to keep the smile off his face.  “I wouldn’t ask, otherwise.”

“I know.”  She busied herself fixing the drinks, and Baekhyun relaxed in the part of his mind that always let him turn his brain off.  It didn’t work this time; he was reminded of walking past, weeks ago, and recognising Chanyeol’s shoes and voice.  He’d nearly gotten himself into trouble; Sarang was always watching, and had caught his near-slip when he realised his band-mate was _there,_ in the club.  The drinks slid into his field of vision, and he thanked her quietly, unsettled.

Sarang took his glass and sipped it, offering Baekhyun a seat beside him.  “I’ve been thinking,” he said.  Baekhyun glanced up at him quickly and lowered his eyes back to his drink before he was caught.  There was nothing in his face to give away precisely _what_ he was thinking.  Baekhyun waited, knowing that it would be explained to him or not.

“I’m thinking perhaps we should invite Chanyeol here one night,” Sarang continued, his voice airy and pleasant.  It took several seconds for the actual words to sink in.

“What?  No!  You can’t!”

Sarang set his drink down firmly.  Baekhyun lowered his head, aware that he was in trouble.  “You are not allowed to tell me what I can and can not do, Starling.”

“I understand.  I’m sorry.”

“I don’t understand you.  He’s perfectly willing to accept the club and he already knows what you do here.  Why are you so against this?”

Why _was_ he?  He was courting punishment, surely, or worse, dismissal from the club and Sarang’s mastership.  “My lives are separate.  This is completely separate from who I am outside of it.”  Baekhyun drew a line in the condensation on the table.  “Nothing crosses from that life into this one, and nothing from this one can cross into the other life.”  He risked another glance at Sarang’s face, and saw him contemplating the line. 

“Starling, he’s already crossed.”  Sarang reached out and bisected the line with one finger.  “He followed you here, and saw you.  He knows.  You said he was joking about it earlier.”

Baekhyun shook his head.  “He saw me once.  He knows about the club but not… not everything.  I have to keep them separate.  Please, you said once that we were friends.  Don’t make me show him everything.”

“I think you’re underestimating his regard for you.  Do you think he would look down on you for it?”

“I’m afraid he already does.”  Baekhyun pulled his knees up to his chest and stared at the line on the table.  The condensation was beginning to draw inward, erasing it.  “Please, please don’t bring him here.”

“Starling, look at me.” 

Baekhyun looked up. 

“And if I were to order you to bring him?”

“I can’t.”

“I will go and get him myself,” Sarang warned.  “Do not disobey me in this, Starling, not if you want to retain your place.”

Baekhyun flinched.  The line on the table vanished entirely.


	7. Making Bibimbap Of His Life

Chanyeol was watching the TV upside down, his legs hooked over the back of the couch.  Most of the members were scattered between the living room and kitchen; Kyungsoo teaching Kai how to cook, while Sehun watched.  Suho and Baekhyun were on either side of Chanyeol.  Suho jumped when Chanyeol’s phone buzzed in his pocket, startling him. 

He dug it out and answered it.  “Hello?”

“May I speak to Chanyeol, please?”

The voice was vaguely familiar.  Swinging his legs over Baekhyun’s head, Chanyeol rolled off the couch.  “Speaking,” he said. 

“Ah, Liebe.  Are you busy?”

Icy cold panic stabbed through his stomach.  Chanyeol glanced at Suho, then Baekhyun.  “One moment, please,” he said politely, and practically bolted for the front door. 

“Well handled,” Sarang said, chuckling.  “I gather you do not want this conversation overheard?”

“No, sir.”

“Such nice manners.  Well.  I’m sure Starling has said nothing of this to you,” Sarang began.  Chanyeol’s eyebrows hit his hairline.

“He hasn’t said three words to me since he came back the other night.” 

“Interrupting is rude, Liebe.”

“Sorry.”

“You might be.  I’ve got it into my head that I’d like to see the both of you here at the same time.  Starling disagrees.  I wanted your opinion.”

Chanyeol nearly dropped the phone.  Glancing up to make sure the door to their room was still closed, he sagged against the wall and sank to the floor, running a hand through his hair.  “I guess this explains the silent treatment.  Won’t… I mean, everyone knows.  Won’t they give it away?”

“They have been instructed to treat you as a first-time guest.  Angelique thinks it’s the greatest thing ever.  She adores you both, and has been practically begging me to bring you both in at the same time.”

“Is that why you’re doing this?”

“In truth, no.”  He lapsed into silence, and Chanyeol waited, hardly daring to breathe.

“Is that all you’re going to say about it?”

“No.  I’m doing this because I believe that Starling needs something else in his life.  We’re not providing it for him.  He’s petrified by the idea of his two lives connecting, but living divided in such a way is tearing him apart.”

Chanyeol let out a sigh.  “You can see that, too?”

“Of course.  I probably see more of his unguarded self than you do.”

“He’s my best friend!” Chanyeol said hotly. 

Sarang’s tone was arch.  “And how much can you tell me about what he fears?  What he desires?”

“He,” Chanyeol began, and then trailed off.  “Fuck.  Thanks for making me look like an asshole.”

“You did that all on your own.  The next time he comes, follow him.  Wait about twenty minutes.  When you arrive, pretend like you have only ever been inside that one time, the first time.  Pretend I called you.”

Chanyeol tightened his hand in his hair, but it wasn’t the same feeling as when Sarang did it to him.  “And you really think that that’s the best way to go about doing this?”

“I think that the two of you may be more well-suited than either of you expects.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“See you anon.”  The line disconnected.  Chanyeol stared at his phone, disconsolately.  _Damn it!  Do I do as he says, or do I go to Baekhyun right now and ask to talk to him?_

“Damn him!” Chanyeol slammed the phone down and drove his fist into the floor.

 

Baekhyun was jumping at shadows, flinching whenever anyone spoke too loudly to him, or near him, or waved their hands or arms –

Chanyeol knew exactly what the problem was.  He hadn’t gone to the club before their performance.  Whatever it did, it calmed him down and centered him, and he was a train-wreck-in-progress for having skipped the usual appointments.  Backstage, Chanyeol cornered him, putting both hands over his shoulders against the wall and trapping him there.

“Why the hell didn’t you go?  You’re a total mess, Baekhyun.  Whatever’s wrong, you need to go there and fix it.”  At the last second, he remembered to lie, to pretend he knew nothing.  It was harder than he would have guessed.  And he hated seeing Baekhyun flinching away from _him_ like that.

“It’s not that simple,” Baekhyun said, refusing to look him in the face.  Chanyeol’s hands curled into fists.  Before it came to outright blows, he shoved away from the wall and his friend, taking his anger and frustration out instead on a shoebox that lay in his path.  He kicked it so hard it sailed into the next room. 

The next day, Baekhyun couldn’t keep his eyes off Chanyeol.  The rapper didn’t know what was going through his head; only that it was supremely disconcerting.  When the singer got up and left, claiming ‘errands’ without saying anything to him, he thought maybe he’d figured it out.  He had his own orders, too.  Leaving just enough time that Baekhyun would have arrived and gotten settled, he started out after him. 

 

Siberian greeted him with barely concealed glee.  “Starling’s inside,” he said.  “We’re to pretend this is only your second visit, right?  Mums the word!”  He mimed zipping his lips shut, and for posterity’s sake, dug out a pink bracelet for Chanyeol to wear.  Chanyeol flashed a wry grin at him, but as he started down the now-familiar hallway, he couldn’t help but wonder what the night would bring.  Baekhyun, at least, was going to be very, very unhappy.

Noise assailed him as he pushed through the door.  The music was familiar, under the thrum of voices and the heavy, pounding bass.  A popular American song, he realised, and stopped just inside the door, trying to remember how he’d felt on his second trip to the club.  How he should be feeling now, if this were actually his second trip only. 

Feeling like a fraud and a liar, he made his eyes wide and looked around, trying to take everything in all over again.  In truth, it was somewhat bizarre.  He never spent much time on the floor, and some of the costumes people wore – or weren’t wearing, as the case may be – were utterly astounding.  Chanyeol pushed his way through a crowd and found a seat at the bar.  Angelique nearly gave herself away, but finally just winked and sashayed over to him.

“You’ve been in here before, I think,” she greeted him.  “You look familiar.”

Chanyeol played the game, just in case Baekhyun was near.  “Just once,” he said, but it came out stiff and unnatural.  He just wasn’t meant to be a liar.   

“Welcome back.”  She smiled, secretive.

“You must be Chanyeol!”  Sarang’s voice rang out over the crowd, loud enough to be heard without carrying.  Chanyeol spun on the seat, highly conscious that he wasn’t wearing the collar.  Sarang had a wide, welcoming smile on his face; Baekhyun trailed behind, wearing the sheer pyjama-like outfit from Chanyeol’s first visit.  This time his modesty was seen to by a pair of flesh-coloured briefs.  They were visible through the layers of gauze that constituted his pants and shirt only because they were a few shades darker than his skin. 

“No,” he said, jerking his head up.  It was, Chanyeol now knew, in direct violation of his standing orders as a sub, and Sarang, if he were in a mood too, was well within his rights to punish his errant sub.  “Lord Sarang, you didn’t.”  His voice was breathy, shock and panic warring for control of his face.  Chanyeol pasted on a wide smile that felt fake and waved to him.

“Ayyo,” he said, feigning cheer. 

“Chanyeol, my love.  Thank you for accepting my invitation,” Sarang continued, well-aware of Baekhyun’s reaction.  “Starling, stay here and entertain my guest for a few minutes.  I’ll be right back.”  Sarang patted the stool next to Chanyeol and then vanished into the crowd.  Baekhyun sat down automatically, still staring numbly at Chanyeol’s face.

“Why are you here?”

“I was invited.”

“Well this is me _un_ inviting you!  Get out of here!  It’s bad enough you kn-”

Chanyeol ordered a sprite, thanking Angelique as politely as he might have if this was his second time only, and sipped it slowly as he studied Baekhyun.  The panic was real.  Oddly, it was easing the tension Chanyeol himself felt, watching Baekhyun flounder.  “Know?” he asked, finishing Baekhyun’s aborted sentence.  “I don’t understand why you do this if you hate it so much.”

Baekhyun’s lips twisted.  He was, Chanyeol noticed absently, wearing lip gloss.  It shimmered under the bright lights of the bar.  “I don’t hate it.  I wouldn’t do it if I did.  I’m not one of those pets out there who can’t function without a dom in their lives telling them when to breathe and piss and sleep.”  The words spewed out with vitriol, and Chanyeol had the feeling that he’d been keeping them inside for a long time.  “But it was never supposed to be mixed up!”

Chanyeol sipped again at the sprite. “Mixed what up?” he asked, genuinely confused.  Baekhyun’s anguish, clear on his face, settled into Chanyeol’s chest like a physical presence. 

“My lives.  Exo and this.  You, _here!_ ”  He made a frustrated gesture.  “I never wanted anyone to know.”

“Are you ashamed?”

“No.”

“Then why the secrecy?”

“Because no one else could possibly understand!”

The fact that Baekhyun truly thought so little of him settled into an ache in his chest that throbbed right alongside his pain over Baekhyun’s misery.  Once again, Sarang’s voice came out of nowhere.

“I think you’re giving darling Chanyeol here less credit than he deserves.  I think he’s handling this remarkably well.”  Baekhyun jumped. 

“Mas-” he cut off with a furtive glance at Chanyeol and started again.  “Lord Sarang, I just…”

“Shh, Starling.  Go to stage three.  We will join you in a moment.” 

For a second, Chanyeol thought Baekhyun was going to argue, but he simply lowered his eyes and went.  “This was a bad idea,” Chanyeol said, watching him go.  “I shouldn’t have let him know I knew, he’s going to be miserable and it’s going to make me miserable and I just… I should go.”

“Peace, Liebe.” Sarang held up a hand to stop the barrage.  Chanyeol fell silent, and in the back of his mind wondered if he’d ever become the sort of man who could command so gently and be obeyed so quickly.  It was a heady thought, but one that had no place with his current mood.  “I will take care of Starling.  Tonight you let go, relax, and leave everything to me.” 

It brought back memories.  _If you were better trained…_ It didn’t seem that long ago, but the tension drained out of him nonetheless.

“Good, good,” Sarang murmured.  “Now come, Starling waits.  I still need to introduce your name to him somehow.”

The praise, as ever, sent a thrill of pleasure through him.  He automatically fell into step behind Sarang, who sighed.  “You’re not here tonight as my sub, Liebe, you’re a guest, remember?  Walk beside me.”

“It feels strange.”

“You wish I should train you as a dom next, yes?  Get used to it.”

If he was gently warmed by Sarang’s praise, those words – and the idea of becoming an equal to him – lit a bonfire inside.  He hurried to walk beside Sarang as the dom lead him to stage three, where Baekhyun waited. 

“On the floor here, I cannot call you by your name,” Sarang said, loudly enough that Baekhyun could hear it.  Sarang was, Chanyeol realised, a much better actor than he’d given the man credit for.  It sounded for all the world like a continued conversation.  “Privacy is of the utmost importance to our guests.”  A wicked grin curved his lips.  “I think I’ll call you Liebe.”

“Liebe,” Chanyeol repeated.  “And what’s that mean?”

“Love.  Ah, darling Starling.  You defied orders tonight.”  The second thing Chanyeol realised was that Sarang with Baekhyun was like a completely different person than Sarang with him.  Everything was a lesson, with him; with Baekhyun, they had months – possibly years – of an intimate relationship between them.  Baekhyun was well past the stage of learning.  He blanched, and then flushed, flicking his eyes at Chanyeol.

“Please, please, please,” he breathed, so softly his lips barely moved.  “Not here.”

“My decision, Starling.” Sarang caught Chanyeol’s eye and glanced quickly at the padded sawhorse on the stage.  Chanyeol got the message and went to inspect it.  He could still hear the other two, though he suspected he was eavesdropping on a private conversation.  “Starling, you’ve already said he knows.  What difference does it make if he sees?  He may even enjoy it.”

“He doesn’t understand,” Baekhyun muttered back.  “He doesn’t and he won’t and he probably _can’t_ and how am I supposed to look him in the face tomorrow, knowing that he’s seen me… like this?”

Chanyeol decided that this was a good time to interrupt.  “What is this thing?” he asked, poking it disdainfully.  It was all he could do to keep a wicked grin of his own off his face as his memories of his first time on one bid fair to overwhelm him.  _And maybe, taking some of the heat off him will help him relax,_ he thought, taking in Baekhyun’s panicked expression. 

“For tying naughty boys like you down,” Sarang said, and in a whip-fast move he wrenched Chanyeol’s arm up behind his back and bent him over the padded bench with an iron grip on his neck.  It hurt, a little.  Chanyeol felt everything go slightly fuzzy at being so easily overwhelmed. 

 _Hindsight is twenty-twenty,_ he thought vacantly.  _I came back to find out what he gets out of this and I think I’ve figured it out._   “Oh,” he said, surprised to hear a slightly drifty note to his voice. 

“Chanyeol?”  Baekhyun entered his vision and Chanyeol could see the fear in his eyes giving way to confusion, and a slow-dawning comprehension.  “ _You-_ ” he started, but Sarang cut him off.

“Liebe, Starling!” He released Chanyeol with a quiet chuckle and helped him up.  “Perhaps we’ll make a sub out of him, hmm, Starling?”

“What?”

“Your manners are seriously lacking tonight, Starling.”

“Yes, master, I’m sorry.  What do you mean, a sub?  Out of Ch- Liebe?”

Chanyeol bit his lip to keep from laughing out loud.  This was actually becoming fun.  And so many memories!  He heard his own voice in the back of his mind, over and over again, _Bae- Starling._   It seemed that they had that in common, at least.   He rubbed his wrist where Sarang had grabbed him, half-afraid it would bruise later.  “I’m not all that interested in being a sub,” he said, staring at Sarang. 

Sarang, who was in on it all the way, stared back, arching one delicate eyebrow.  “No?  Starling, where are your restraints?”

“The room, Master,” Baekhyun said, and the same drifty, dreamy tone was entering his voice. 

“Get them.”

“Yes, sir.”  Baekhyun padded away, and Sarang raised his chin as he studied Chanyeol.

“You’re doing well.”

“It’s weird.  Being out here, I mean.”

“On display.”

“Yes.”

“I’m not nearly done with you, not yet.  But I almost wish I were, now.  When we get to the part of your training in which you learn to wield the instruments of punishment, perhaps I’ll allow you up here with Starling,” he mused.  Chanyeol’s mouth went dry and his jaw dropped, but he couldn’t reply because Baekhyun was back, fighting to fasten the leather restraint bracelets around his wrists.  A tone of command entered Sarang’s voice then, one Chanyeol was becoming familiar with.  “Starling, down,” he ordered.  A blank, peaceful expression stole over Baekhyun’s features as he arranged himself comfortably on the padded sawhorse, lying limp while Sarang and another attendant fastened the hooks to his accessories. 

“Would you like to watch?”  Sarang was darkly amused, and Chanyeol was half-tempted to refuse. 

“I would,” he said, swallowing around the dryness of his throat.  He had to fight against adding “Master” to his words as well, knowing it would give the game away.

“Kneel,” Sarang ordered.  Chanyeol knelt.  “Put your hands like so,” he added, taking Chanyeol’s wrists – more gently this time – and placing his hands on the back of his neck.  “Shoulders back, chest out, hips level.  Good.  Spread your knees.  Farther.  Farther.  Very good.  Mm, very nice.  Don’t you think so, Starling?”  On the bench, Baekhyun jumped, pulling himself into focus with a visible effort.  Sarang turned back to Chanyeol.  “This is the pose of presentation,” he said, falling easily back into his teacher’s role.  “When the order to present is given, this is the position you assume.”  The wicked smile was back.  “Can you hold it?”

Already the muscles in his thighs were protesting the awkward angle of his knees, and it left him feeling terribly exposed.  Chanyeol took advantage of the fact that for this one night he had license to treat Sarang like a semi-equal, and stared him straight in the face, defiantly.  “I can,” he said bravely. 

On the sawhorse, Baekhyun was staring with unabashed frankness.  “Oh my god,” he whispered; their eyes met.  Sarang was, Chanyeol realised, a very wicked man at heart.  He’d positioned Chanyeol so that he and Baekhyun were facing one another, eye to eye.  The dom selected a wide paddle that looked more like the oar to a boat than an instrument to be used during a scene, hefted it once, and without warning landed a solid blow to Baekhyun’s raised ass.  Chanyeol flinched in sympathy, but Baekhyun sighed.

It continued.  Before it was over, Baekhyun was mindless with it, squirming and whimpering helplessly as he sought to simultaneously escape and lean into the beating.  And Chanyeol was harder than he’d ever been in his life.  It shouldn’t have been sexy; it was.  The sheer pleasure Baekhyun took in it, the trust he held in Sarang’s strength and control.  The _noises_ he made. 

The position Chanyeol was in – knees spread, back arched – left him no relief.  He could get no friction against his jeans, and he didn’t dare move his hands.  He heard someone panting and was startled to realise it was himself.  When the paddling was over, Baekhyun’s eyes opened halfway, his expression slack with pleasure.  The mistiness in his eyes cleared up as he got a good look at Chanyeol, who was visibly affected by the show.  He watched helplessly as Sarang leaned over Baekhyun and whispered audibly in his ear, “I think he understands more than you realise.”

Chanyeol flushed under the attention, and a wondering look came into Baekhyun’s eyes.


	8. Tied Up, Spread Open, and Forced to Watch

They retired to the private room Sarang reserved for Baekhyun – and more recently, Chanyeol.  Sarang took command, ordering Baekhyun onto the bed while he fussed over Chanyeol. 

“What to do with you?” he mused, eyeing him.  “Aha, I know!  Starling, the spreader, where is it?”

Baekhyun crawled off the bed and dug through a pile in the corner.  While he was busy, Sarang fitted the restraint bracelets to Chanyeol’s wrists, drawing some of the ropes down from the ceiling and attaching them to the D-rings on the leather straps.  When he pulled the ropes a certain way and tied them off, Chanyeol found his arms bound above his head, his body pulled taut.  When Baekhyun brought the ‘spreader’ – he didn’t know what it was, and couldn’t see what they were doing behind him – Sarang knelt at his feet, attaching a Velcro strap to one ankle. 

“Spread your legs,” Sarang ordered, swatting his calf.  Chanyeol obeyed as best as he could, but Sarang wasn’t satisfied.  “Farther,” he said, and again.  “Farther!”  Losing patience, he seized Chanyeol’s ankle and pulled it, nearly causing Chanyeol to lose his balance.  The ropes attached to his wrists caught his weight and he swung gently for a moment.  The second strap on the bar went around his other ankle, and Chanyeol realised that with the bar between his legs, he couldn’t close them.  He felt obscenely spread open, and tried not to imagine what could be done while he was so helpless.   Desire surged through his blood and his cock throbbed against the confines of his jeans. 

Sarang stepped back to survey his handiwork, drawing Baekhyun close to his side.  “Doesn’t he look lovely, Starling?”

Baekhyun stared, visibly caught halfway between arousal and dismay.  “Yes he does,” he said finally.  “I think I know why you’re so fond of this,” he added, and returned to the bed.  Chanyeol, forced to watch in immobility, whined helplessly. 

“One more thing,” Sarang said thoughtfully.  He rummaged through the bureau and tore something wrapped in plastic open.  When he approached Chanyeol again, he revealed the newest toy to be a small rubber ball attached to straps.  Chanyeol stared uncomprehendingly at it for a moment.  “You stay here and be quiet,” Sarang ordered, and placed the ball in his mouth, fastening the straps around the back of his head.  It was small enough that it didn’t interfere with his breathing, but it held his tongue immobile and he found that he couldn’t form words.  Another whine escaped around the rubber.  Sarang, a merciless tease, trailed two fingers down his chest, toyed with the waistband of his jeans, and cupped him quickly through the denim before releasing him and moving away.  The light caress inflamed him, and Chanyeol watched helplessly as Sarang began to work on Baekhyun.

Baekhyun, for his part, couldn’t seem to take his eyes off Chanyeol.  It was visibly annoying Sarang, who swatted him, but Baekhyun’s gaze kept returning to him. 

“Forget about him, Starling,” Sarang ordered.  Baekhyun wiggled slightly and averted his eyes, but as Chanyeol watched it lasted only a few seconds before Baekhyun was staring at him again.  Sarang produced a blindfold from somewhere on the bed, causing them both to gasp as he fitted it around Baekhyun’s face.  Chanyeol’s breathing was harsh around the rubber gag, but he was mindful of the situation and tried to stay quiet as Sarang continued preparing Baekhyun.  He felt privileged to be allowed to watch even as he yearned to be free to touch and be touched.  He wriggled slightly but between the ropes holding his wrists high and the bar between his legs, he could get no friction where he needed it. 

The next implement Sarang withdrew from beneath the bed momentarily took Chanyeol’s mind out of the scene.  It was metal, with four cuffs attached to it.  He couldn’t figure out how it was meant to be used until Sarang urged Baekhyun onto his hands and knees; the two cuffs on the ends went around his ankles, spreading his thighs apart in much the same way as the spreader was doing to Chanyeol, and as Sarang guided Baekhyun’s hands to the other two cuffs in the center, leaving him with his face against the mattress, his ass in the air…

Chanyeol took a deep breath around the gag, in absolute awe. 

Sarang’s voice was low and amused.  “Do you want to come?” He trailed one hand lovingly over the curve of Baekhyun’s hip; Chanyeol could see him smiling when Baekhyun nodded several times and whispered, “Please.”

Sarang smacked him, the sharp _crack_ of his hand against flesh causing Chanyeol to flinch in sympathy.  It _looked_ like it hurt.  Baekhyun pushed his ass back against Sarang’s hand, a quiet, pleased sound escaping through parted lips.  “One moment, Starling,” Sarang promised, and returned to the bureau. 

As to what he took out, Chanyeol couldn’t tell from the angle he was at; facing the bed, the bureau was to his left and slightly behind him.  It turned out to be a long, ribbed toy, and Chanyeol’s breath caught in his throat at the sight of it.  Sarang coated it in oil with quick, practiced movements, then roughly yanked the sheer, loose trousers down over Baekhyun’s hips.  The tiny shorts followed.  As he positioned the toy, Chanyeol was torn between staring and not missing a moment, and closing his eyes to give Baekhyun some sort of privacy.  As it turned out, he couldn’t look away.  The rest of the room melted away as Sarang pushed it in, stretching Baekhyun’s body around its formidable girth.  Baekhyun let out a breathy whimper on every exhalation, pushing back against it. 

Despite everything, Chanyeol found himself fascinated.  _He really does find pleasure in it,_ he thought, utterly bewitched.  The sheer size of it was intimidating, but Baekhyun was taking it like it was the key to the gates of heaven.  It narrowed significantly and then flared out widely at the base; from his reading, Chanyeol knew that it was meant to act as a stopper so that the toy wouldn’t be swallowed and lost inside the body.  Sarang twisted the base and a mechanical purring filled the room.  Baekhyun jerked like he’d been shocked and moaned out loud.  Chanyeol nearly echoed him before remembering that he had an order to remain quiet. 

Sarang ran his nails over Baekhyun’s skin, sometimes pinching, sometimes squeezing, massaging Baekhyun’s ass in a way that should have been comical.  Should have been.  Chanyeol swallowed around the gag, trying to get some spit into his bone-dry mouth at the sight.  Every movement Sarang made shifted the toy, and Baekhyun shifted with it, whining and writhing and moaning.  Sarang reached under him and Baekhyun jerked; Chanyeol couldn’t see what was happening, but he could guess.  The memory of those talented fingers on his own body just left him further inflamed and his hips moved without conscious effort as he strained against his bonds. 

“You’re doing so well,” Sarang murmured, and bent to retrieve something from beside the bed.  It turned out to be a wide wooden paddle.  Sarang twisted the base of the toy once more, and the buzzing increased accompanied by a fresh shout from Baekhyun.  Then, positioning himself on his knees, Sarang took up the paddle and held it firmly with both hands.  He swung and struck so hard that Baekhyun was pushed several inches up the mattress, and Chanyeol flinched again, imagining how it must hurt.  There was nothing pained about the noise Baekhyun released, however. 

“Oh god!” he shouted, his voice breaking around the words.  “Again!”

Sarang didn’t disappoint.  The paddle rose and fell and rose again, over and over until Baekhyun’s skin was apple-red.  He set the paddle down and donned silk gloves with a wicked smirk in Chanyeol’s direction, then began stroking and massaging the abused flesh.  Baekhyun wiggled constantly, a steady stream of noise and incomprehensible words flowing from his mouth.  After a time, Sarang took up the paddle again.  One handed, he turned up the toy a third time.  Baekhyun shouted wordlessly, and it turned into a broken moan as Sarang swung the paddle once more. 

Chanyeol hadn’t counted before, but from then it was only five more strokes before Baekhyun was coming noisily, practically screaming into the sheets as his body stiffened with the force of his release.  _I can’t believe he got off on just that,_ Chanyeol thought hazily, his mind a fog of desire and unfulfilled lust.  He was hard as a rock and desperate, completely unaware that he was whining around the gag.  Sarang turned the toy back down to the first setting, leaving it on and inside Baekhyun as he undid the straps around Baekhyun’s ankles. 

“So good, Starling, you did so well,” he said soothingly, and pulled away.  “I have to take care of our guest now.” 

Free, Baekhyun stretched out and flopped onto his back.  At first, he seemed content to lay there, but at Sarang’s words he reached up and snatched off the blindfold, staring at Chanyeol like he’d forgotten about him.  For his part, Chanyeol might have laughed if he could have gotten the air into his lungs.  Sarang’s approach and his own desperate need had driven all the oxygen from the room, though, and he could do nothing except watch as Sarang came closer.  One hand went around his back, which was comforting in an odd way, but nothing close to what he needed.  The other hand slipped down the inseam of his jeans.  Chanyeol whimpered again, wishing he was free to beg and plead.  The ball wouldn’t budge, however, and he couldn’t make the words.

Sarang understood anyway.  The hand on his thigh came up and rubbed him through the jeans briefly, and then he unfastened the button and drew him out.  It was a quick and artless handjob, but Chanyeol was so worked up by that point that white stars burst behind his eyelids.  His breath rushed past the gag in ragged gasps as the pleasure mounted.  “Come without permission,” Sarang said softly, leaning forward so that his breath ticked the shell of Chanyeol’s ear, “and you _will_ learn to regret it.”

Chanyeol nodded, looking over his shoulder at Baekhyun.  The singer was still stretched out on the bed, his hips shifting languidly and Chanyeol vaguely recalled the toy had been left inside him.  That sent a thrill of pleasure up his spine, and he forcibly clamped down on the urge to let go.  Baekhyun caught him staring and smiled indolently, his face slightly flushed as he stared unabashedly. 

It was too much.  Chanyeol squeezed his eyes shut and let his head fall back.  Sarang alternated his technique between quick strokes and gentle squeezes, adding a twist of his wrist occasionally.  Chanyeol forced words out, his brain barely able to hold onto them long enough to remember what he was saying.  It came out breathy and tight, almost incomprehensible, “ _Han… Hi… Hum…?  Hease?_ ” 

“Since you asked so nicely,” Sarang said.  Chanyeol could hear the sadistic smile in his voice.  “Come, Liebe,” he ordered, his voice like silk.  Chanyeol let go.  His orgasm crashed through him like a tsunami, his vision sparkling at the edges before whiting out entirely.  It seemed to go on forever, each pulse like the ocean tides as his pleasure crested again and again. 

 

He drifted.  His mind was totally free of everything; the distant sensations on his body felt like they were happening to someone else.  It was like he was floating.  Slowly, so slowly, Chanyeol began to pull himself together.  Feeling returned first; he was aware of the way his body tingled in the wake of his overwhelming orgasm, and the softness of fabric against his skin.  The second thing was sound, and with it he realised that he wasn’t actually floating in nothingness – part of the touches on his body were hands – in his hair, on his shoulders, under his legs.  Then voices resolved themselves out of the formless noise he was hearing. 

“Liebe.  Liebe, come back.  It’s okay.  You did so good, you need to come back now.”

“Oh my _god,_ Chanyeol!  Please wake up, please, please!  Wake up!  Sarang, what’s wrong with him?  Why won’t he open his eyes?  Chanyeol?  Chanyeol!”

He blinked, and realised he could see.  The white blankness retreated and he recognised Sarang above him.  Further away, he could see Baekhyun, wide-eyed and white-faced in fear.  Sarang let out a quiet sigh, and his features shifted subtly.  In retrospect, Chanyeol realised Sarang had been _worried._

“Where did you go, Liebe?”

Chanyeol licked his lips and discovered he could.  It was about that point that he realised he was no longer upright, that Sarang was too close.  It occurred to him that he was lying down, supported by Sarang’s arms and shoulders.  He withdrew a little way, only to have Baekhyun practically jump on him. 

“Chanyeol!  Are you okay!  This was such a bad idea, what happened, what –”

Sarang glanced up sharply.  “Starling!” he barked.  Baekhyun subsided, but the colour was only slowly returning to his face. 

“I don’t know,” Chanyeol whispered.  His throat was sore, and he vaguely remembered it was because he’d screamed.  Resolving to feel embarrassed about it later, he licked his lips again.  “Away.  It was nice.”  Baekhyun was still agitated, practically vibrating with it beside him.  It was making him edgy, taking away the blissful peace of the white blankness he’d just acquired.

Sarang relaxed further.  “Starling, you need to calm down.  You’re making things worse,” he said to Baekhyun.  To Chanyeol, he gave an encouraging smile.  “It’s perfectly normal.  Many subs have reported feeling similar things.  You gave Starling – something of a scare, however.  How are you feeling now?”

Chanyeol had the distinct feeling that Sarang wasn’t telling the whole truth.  There was an almost-imperceptible pause between _Starling_ and the rest of the sentence; Chanyeol figured that he’d edited his original thought, that he’d almost revealed being frightened, himself.  He thought better of the dom for it, though.  “Good.”  Tired. Weak.  Peaceful.  “Sleepy,” he added. 

“Can you stand?”

Chanyeol thought about it.  A better question, he decided, was did he want to?  There was a perfectly good bed right there.  “I can try,” he said finally.  It would be hard, but worth it to get home and sleep in his own bed.


	9. Eight Redux: Treat Your Guests Well

Sarang ordered him back to the room, and Baekhyun went gladly, his body still buzzing in the aftermath of the paddling.  He was curious about what Sarang had planned now, but didn’t dare turn around and ask him.  When they reached his room, Sarang glanced around once.

“Starling, on the bed,” he ordered.  Baekhyun made himself comfortable, while Chanyeol stood awkwardly in the room, looking out of place while Sarang inspected him.  “What to do with you?” he wondered out loud.  Baekhyun bit his lip to keep from adding his suggestion – that they send him home and continue without him.  Sarang continued uninterrupted.  “Aha!” he said.  “I know.  Starling, the spreader.  Where is it?”

 _Oh my god,_ Baekhyun thought to himself, trying to remember where they’d put it when it had last played a role in their games.  He found it in the corner, and turned to find Sarang tying Chanyeol to the rope system that hung from the ceiling.  If it was done right, total suspension was possible.  They’d done it a few times, but although being tied up made him hot, being pulled off the ground was enough to break through the sexual haze and prevent him from enjoying himself.  Sarang was a fantastic dom, however, and understood that not everything was for everyone.  He wasn’t hanging Chanyeol, though; just tying him up.  The sight was unexpectedly hot. 

Baekhyun felt his breath rush out of his lungs in a _whoosh_ when Sarang knelt and attached the spreader bar to his ankles, locking his legs widely apart.  Baekhyun’s palms itched with the desire to touch him.  Sarang stepped back to look at him, and put an arm around Baekhyun’s shoulders.

“Doesn’t he look lovely, Starling?”

Baekhyun was torn completely in two.  On one hand, he wanted Chanyeol out of that club and far away from anything to do with sex or Sarang.  On the other… he could _see_ how turned on Chanyeol was, and he wanted more than anything else to run his hands over his chest and legs and that lovely erection that was tenting his jeans.  Seeing Chanyeol so helpless and aroused was breathtaking.  “Yes he does,” he said finally, remembering that Sarang expected an answer from him.  He longed to touch, to command, to control – a feeling that was utterly foreign to him before that moment.  “I think I know why you’re so fond of this,” he added thoughtlessly, and then, embarrassed, he sat back down on the bed to wait.  The noise Chanyeol made left him breathless.

“One more thing,” Sarang said, startling him.   He went to the toy cabinet and withdrew a ball gag – brand new, Baekhyun noticed – and fastened it around Chanyeol’s mouth.  The whole picture when he stepped back was one of erotic power – Chanyeol, utterly helpless, stretched and spread wide open, for anything they could do.  Sarang took advantage of him, stroking him, and Baekhyun realised that they were about to leave him there to watch. 

To _watch._  

Every muscle in his body froze as he contemplated it, and he realised he would never be able to relax enough to feel anything.  It might even hurt, and his ass still stung from the display on the stage earlier.  Sarang, who could practically read his mind, scowled at him.

“Forget about him, Starling,” he ordered.  Baekhyun tried, but the entirety of his attention was on the younger man strung up in the center of the room.  Sarang withdrew a blindfold, and almost immediately a languid peace settled over him.  Intellectually, he knew that “I can’t see you so you can’t see me” was nothing more than a trick of the mind, but it helped him to calm down. 

Then Sarang started tying him to another of their bars, arranging him so that his body was on display.  They both favoured the paddles, and Baekhyun knew in the back of his mind that it was coming again, but with the blindfold his world was reduced to what he could hear and feel.  Sarang urged him onto his knees, and he gratefully sank his face into the soft sheet, turning so he could breathe. 

“Do you want to come?” Sarang’s voice came out of the darkness, and Baekhyun knew that if he replied no, he would be unsatisfied.  If he said yes, there was a chance the dom wouldn’t let him, but there was also a chance he _would._

“Please,” he said.  Sarang smacked him once, and a wave of pleasure washed through him. 

“One moment, Starling,” Sarang said, and withdrew.  He was quickly back, and when Baekhyun heard the tube of lubrication snap open, his breath caught.  Then his clothes were slowly drawn off, and the head of the toy breached his entrance.  It hurt for just a second, and then his brain rewired the pain into pleasure.  It was _huge_ and it stretched him so well… He heard someone whimpering and realised it was himself, pushing back against the toy to get more of it inside him.  It narrowed suddenly, and he felt the cool base flush against his ass, wiggling experimentally.  It felt like it should be coming up the back of his throat any minute – it was so long, so thick.  He wasn’t a size queen, but he couldn’t deny it felt so _good._  

Then Sarang moved it slightly and it started vibrating.  The pleasure increased tenfold, and Baekhyun moaned helplessly.  Then Sarang started touching him, pinching his ass and thighs, rubbing his hands over the still-warm skin.  Sometimes he grabbed both sides and pushed them together around the toy, and Baekhyun felt he could come just from that alone.  He knew better than to come without permission, though, and he resisted it as the torment drew on, the pleasure turning sharply into an almost-pain that turned right back around into pleasure.  When Sarang reached around him and fondled his balls, he thought he was going to pass out, but that, mercifully, was the end of it.  He pulled away. 

“You’re doing so well,” Sarang told him, and pleasure of a much softer variety warmed his chest.  The toy moved once more, and the buzzing got louder, the toy vibrating against his inner walls maddeningly.  Baekhyun cried out without even meaning to, but Sarang didn’t scold him for it – instead, he shifted his weight on the bed, and then hit him with the paddle.

Starbursts blossomed behind his eyes like flowers and his dick throbbed in time with his pounding heart.  “Oh god!” he shouted.  “Again!”  It was so good.  The paddle came down again and again until Baekhyun was writhing beneath the onslaught.  Then Sarang set it aside and started touching him, gloved fingers a soft and glorious counterpoint to the pleasure-pain of his burning ass.  The toy was turned up again, and then the paddle came down again.  It was too much; a whispered command from Sarang had him coming all over himself and the sheets.  When he was done, Sarang turned the toy back down to the lowest setting and undid the straps, leaving Baekhyun to free himself. 

“So good, Starling, you did so well,” Sarang said, reassuring him.  Baekhyun pulled his wrists and ankles free of the straps, and flopped back onto the bed, content to rest.  “I have to take care of our guest now,” Sarang added, and Baekhyun tore the blindfold off, shocked to realise he’d forgotten completely about Chanyeol’s presence in the room.  He stared, unable to reconcile the cocky, outgoing rapper with the flushed, helpless young man strung up from the ceiling.  Sarang blocked his view momentarily, and then pulled back, undoing Chanyeol’s jeans.  For a moment, he was terribly embarrassed to be watching such a private moment, but then the sheer eroticism of the scene won him over.  There was no way he could come again, but the sight of Chanyeol’s face slack with pleasure as Sarang worked on him was one that would keep him warm at night. 

Their eyes met briefly, and Baekhyun smirked at him.  Chanyeol flushed prettily and looked away as his head fell back loosely. 

Apparently Sarang and Chanyeol were talking, because suddenly Sarang said, “Because you asked so nicely… Come, Liebe,” he ordered, just as if Chanyeol was one of his subs.  To Baekhyun’s surprise, Chanyeol – did. 

He yelled helplessly as it washed through him, and Baekhyun’s smirk widened as he remembered his own first orgasm at Sarang’s capable hands.  Speaking of memories that kept him warm…

Then Sarang was hurrying to release Chanyeol from the ropes, and the smile faded from Baekhyun’s face as he realised his bandmate was unnaturally still.  Fear shot through him like ice.  He pulled the toy out of himself and left it on the bed as he righted his clothes before kneeling beside Sarang and Chanyeol.  Chanyeol’s eyes were open, but there was nothing behind them.  He was still breathing, which was just about the only comforting thing about it. 

Sarang glanced up at him, cradling Chanyeol like a child.  “This is normal,” he said.  “Just give him a moment and he’ll come around.”

Baekhyun had a hard time believing that.  He reached out and touched Chanyeol’s hair, his panic mounting as Chanyeol remained unresponsive.  Sarang was still calm, quietly speaking to Chanyeol as if everything were normal. 

It did nothing.  “Oh my _god,_ Chanyeol!  Please wake up, please, please!  Wake up!  Sarang, what’s wrong with him?  Why won’t he open his eyes?  Chanyeol?  Chanyeol!”  The words spilled out of him faster than he believed possible.  Then Chanyeol’s eyes blinked and he focused. 

Ignoring Sarang’s dirty look, he leaned in to get a better look at him.  A hazy smile curved his lips, and there was a certain lassitude to his posture that Baekhyun didn’t like.  He still wasn’t recovering fast enough for Baekhyun’s peace-of-mind.  “Chanyeol! Are you okay?” he demanded. 

“Starling!” Sarang shouted at him, and Baekhyun retreated slightly. 

“I don’t know,” Chanyeol said.  Baekhyun was puzzled before he realised that it was in response to something Sarang had said. 

Sarang let the tension drain out of him, and it was only afterward that Baekhyun realised he _had_ been tense.  Chanyeol scared him, too.  “Starling, calm down.  You’re making things worse.”

Baekhyun glared at him, but then took in Chanyeol’s peaceful expression.  It was slowly being replaced by a nervous one, the lines around his eyes and mouth tightening as Baekhyun’s panic was communicated to him.  Baekhyun made a visible effort to relax, but it wasn’t easy. 

Chanyeol smiled, then, and it was just so… _angelic._    It was peaceful, and happy, and almost childlike in its simple happiness.  Baekhyun relaxed further.  “Good,” he said, answering another of Sarang’s quite questions.  “Sleepy.” 

“Can you stand?”

Chanyeol was quiet so long that Baekhyun was beginning to get nervous again.  Finally, he replied, “I can try.”  He reached out and between the two of them, they managed to get Chanyeol on his feet.  Baekhyun supported his weight while Sarang readjusted his clothes, and then Sarang took him and his gaze flickered down Baekhyun’s body.

“Starling, go get changed,” he said, and Baekhyun realised suddenly that he was still in the gauze pyjama suit.  He dashed into the bathroom with his clothes, and changed so quickly he almost felt like he left friction burns behind on his skin. 

“I’ll take him home,” he promised when he emerged.  Sarang passed Chanyeol’s loose-limbed body over to him, and Baekhyun shifted him.  “Wake up, you.  We’re going home.” 

Chanyeol stirred and looked up at him.  “You’re very pretty,” he said softly. Baekhyun laughed.

“You’re out of your mind,” he said.  “This isn’t the way I wanted to spend the rest of my evening.”

“Sorry.”  Chanyeol’s voice was gentle and sincere.  Baekhyun sighed and helped him through the doorway.  The walk seemed to last forever, with Chanyeol staggering and stumbling around like he was drunk, still reeling from the effects of the sensation known as sub-space.  Baekhyun felt it every time he went to Sarang – it was one of the reasons he went, because going to that place in his head was restful and calming, and took away everything he didn’t want to think about.

Now, he found he didn’t want to think about the experience Sarang had just forced Chanyeol into.  He couldn’t go back, however.  He relegated it to the back of his mind and focused on getting Chanyeol safely back to the dorms.   It was late enough by the time they arrived that everyone else was already in bed.  At least there would be no unwelcome questions. 

In their shared bedroom, Chanyeol flopped onto his bed – in a very familiar position.  Face down, diagonally across his mattress. 

Baekhyun’s suspicions flared up into anger.  “You lying son of a bitch!” he shouted, shoving Chanyeol nearly off the other side of the bed.  Chanyeol roused himself to glare.

“I’m tired, Baekhyunnie,” he mumbled.  “Leave me alone for a couple of days.”

“That was _not_ the first time you’ve been back to the club!” he accused.  Chanyeol froze for a moment – long enough to give himself away – and then sighed, flopping onto his back and kicking off his shoes. 

“No,” he admitted.  “I’ve been going for weeks.  Now let me sleep.”

“Not a chance in hell!” 

He didn’t know how it happened, but they scuffled.  When things settled, he was straddling Chanyeol’s stomach, his hands not quite around the rapper’s throat.  They rested on his shoulders, the thumbs framing Chanyeol’s Adam’s apple.  Close enough to show he could have them around his neck if he wanted.  One of Chanyeol’s hands was wrapped around his wrist, the other pushed against his knee.  “Why does it matter?”

“It matters because you _lied!_ ”

“So do you.  Every single time you go.  ‘Errands.’”  Tired as he was – and Baekhyun could see Chanyeol fighting to stay awake to finish the argument – he still managed to imbue the slightly-slurred words with a sarcasm that spoke volumes. 

“I’ve been going for _years._   Happily.  No one even noticed until recently.”  Chanyeol flinched under the accusation, which definitely hit home.  “And no one would have even cared if you hadn’t followed me and ruined everything!”

Chanyeol flinched again.  “I was just worried about you,” he said.  “I wanted to know.”

Baekhyun’s fingers tightened against his throat.  He could feel Chanyeol’s pulse beating birds-wings fluttery against the skin.  “Know.  What?”

“What you were doing, at first.  Then when I went there and… saw…” he trailed off for a moment.  Baekhyun shook him.  He made his eyes wide and took a deep breath.  “I didn’t understand.  I wanted to.”

Feeling like it was irrational even as he was unable to stop himself, Baekhyun felt his ire rising.  “You’re not helping,” he growled.  Chanyeol sighed. 

“I just wanted to know,” he repeated.  “What did you get out of it?  Why did you keep going?  I talked to Sarang.  I’m sort of a probationary sub.  Can we have this conversation tomorrow?  Or the day after?”

“ _You –_ ”

“Tomorrow, Baekhyunnie,” Chanyeol murmured, and between one breath and the next, fell asleep. 

Disgusted with both Chanyeol and himself, impotently furious, Baekhyun released his roommate and retreated to his own bed.  He lay staring up into the darkness for a long time before he managed to fall asleep.


	10. The Simple Solution is a Long Way Down

**Chapter Nine**

Chanyeol overslept the next day, but he was hardly surprised.  What did take him off guard was how easy it was to evade Baekhyun, who also seemed to be avoiding him in turn.  Several days passed with a frosty silence growing between them.  His memories of the night were fuzzy, almost like he’d been drunk.  An internet search told him that everything he’d experienced was perfectly normal, if somewhat rare, and he relaxed into knowledge that he’d spent a literally magical night.  And even with Baekhyun’s temper-tantrum, he couldn’t help but think about it.

What it had been like with Baekhyun in the room with him.  The most intense orgasm of his  _life_ , and a warm sense of well-being that hadn’t faded despite the fight that followed it. 

He couldn’t help but wonder what it might be like if Sarang wasn’t between them. 

Boredom drove him to the roof, and he sat overlooking the city for hours, thinking so quietly it was almost a meditation.  He pulled the Claim out of his pocket and was fiddling with it, divided down the middle of his being.  On one hand, he wanted to keep going back to the club.  He liked Angelique and Siberian, and even Sarang.  He liked the atmosphere.  He even liked the not-quite-sex.  And a deep, dark corner of his mind admitted in a very small voice that he liked the private connection with Baekhyun. 

On the other hand, Baekhyun was his best friend.  Despite the connection, despite the friendships he’d found there, it was driving a wedge between them.  Suho had gone so far as to sit him down separately the day before and ask him to fix whatever was wrong between him and Baekhyun, because it was messing with the whole team dynamic.  And apart from everything else, he  _missed_  Baekhyun.  He missed their shared laughter, and their easy camaraderie and their goofy games and inside jokes that made every day a new adventure. 

“ _Oh my god,_  Chanyeol, what are you  _doing!?_   Get away from there!”

The sudden interruption startled him, and he whipped around.  Baekhyun was on the roof, white-faced and wide-eyed.  Chanyeol had a quick flashback to the night they’d both gone to the club, before the fight started.  It sent a flush of warmth through him to remember what went before, but it was quickly extinguished by an icy tendril of fear.  “What are you doing here?”

“Please come away from the edge,” Baekhyun said instead of answering, his voice tight.  Chanyeol stood and obediently stepped further back from the edge of the roof.  Baekhyun’s relief was visible on his face, but as soon as he lost the terrified look, he began to regain the cold expression he’d worn for days.  “What are you doing up here?”

“Thinking.  Why are you here?”

It was tense and bitter and wrong, all wrong.  Chanyeol felt an ache deep in his chest at the estrangement between them. 

“I was worried about you.  No one’s seen you for hours.”

Chanyeol felt his expression tighten.  “Worried about what?  Scared I went back to the club?”

Baekhyun’s chin came up as his eyes narrowed.  “No,” he said, voice frosty.  He took a deep breath and looked like he was about to expand on it, but instead he just turned and walked away.  “It’s none of  _my_  business what you do with your free time,” he added.  The words struck Chanyeol like a physical blow.  When Baekhyun turned his back, he stepped away, half-staggering, to his earlier position beside the ledge and sank to his knees.  A sharp intake of breath behind him told him that Baekhyun had turned and was watching him.  Feeling unhappy and miserable, he leaned forward slightly to look over the edge.

It was a very, very long way down.  He didn’t want to think about what would happen if he fell.

“Chan-” Baekhyun began, but cut himself off.  Chanyeol turned to look at him, and realised the tight, nervous look was back in his eyes. 

“I’m not going to throw myself off the goddamned roof,” Chanyeol snapped.  “Leave me alone!”

Baekhyun wrenched the door open, anger once again replacing the worry on his face.  “Fine!  Go ahead and throw yourself off, I don’t even care anymore!”

The door slammed, and Chanyeol flinched.  He laid down and inched closer to the edge, peering down again.  It wasn’t worth killing himself over a stupid fight, he told himself.  And he really didn’t want to die.  But there was no way he was going inside now, not after that.  He rolled away from the edge and retreated to a shed in the center of the roof.  He went around to the back of it so that he wouldn’t be interrupted again, and leaned against the wall.

 _How can I fix this?_  he wondered.  The thought chased itself around his head in fruitless circles, and he tipped his head back and eventually dropped off to sleep there on the roof.

 

He woke up to darkness, and someone screaming his name.  In the first moments before wakefulness caught up with his brain, he half-smirked to himself, making a private joke about  _wanting to hear Baekhyun scream his name like that,_  and then his gears kicked into overdrive and he realised that he wasn’t dreaming – Baekhyun  _was_  shouting for him.

For a moment he debated on whether or not to answer, a childish response to be sure, but he hadn’t forgotten the fight they’d had earlier when Baekhyun came looking for him. 

Baekhyun’s voice carried across the roof, ragged and torn.  “ _Oh, no!_   No!  Chanyeol, no!” 

The tone was despairing, wretched, and Chanyeol couldn’t help himself.  He peeked around the side of the little shed and saw Baekhyun drop to his knees beside the ledge he’d been sitting near earlier, shining a flashlight over the side.  For a moment, he felt like laughing.  Baekhyun actually thought he’d jumped?  He climbed to his feet and dusted himself off before deciding to put Baekhyun out of his misery.

“I’m right here,” he said.  Baekhyun jumped with an unmanly shriek and unbalanced himself– fortunately toppling backwards onto the roof and not forward into thin air – then recovered and threw the flashlight at Chanyeol. 

“You asshole!” he shouted.  “Where the hell have you been?”

Chanyeol dodged the torch and put his hands on his hips.  “Up here the whole time!  Why are you yelling at  _me_?”

“It’s almost midnight!  What the hell is wrong with you –”

“Wrong with me?  You’re the one who keeps coming up here and yelling at me!  What’s  _your_  problem?  Oh, and do you  _really_  think I’d jump off the damn roof?  I’m so glad to know your opinion of me is so high!”

“I don’t know what to think of you anymore!” Baekhyun shot back.  “You lie, you keep secrets, you vanish!  I don’t even know how to talk to you right now!”

It hurt, just like everything else.  Chanyeol retrieved the flashlight and chucked it back at Baekhyun, who caught it gracefully.  “Simple solution,” Chanyeol said, walking back towards the door that opened up into the building proper.  “ _Don’t talk to me!_ ”  He regretted the words as soon as they were out of his mouth – it was light enough by the full moon and the lights of the city that he could make out Baekhyun’s devastated expression.  But it was too late to take them back.  He let himself back inside and stumbled numbly back to their bedroom.  He tried to imagine sleeping there in the same room and couldn’t do it. 

Rolling up his mattress, pillow, and blanket, he knocked on Kai and D.O.’s door. 

When it opened, he swallowed past the lump in his throat.  “Can I sleep in here with you for a while?”

Kyungsoo took one look at his face and pushed the door open wider, making room for him.  “I don’t know what’s going on between you and Baekhyun,” he said softly, trying not to wake the sleeping Kai.   “But I really hope you figure it out soon.”

“I won’t be in here forever.  Just tonight, at least.  Maybe tomorrow night.  Then I’ll… find something else to do.”

“Not because of that,” Kyungsoo said.  “I’m sure Kai won’t mind you sharing with us.  It’s just… you both look so miserable all the time.”  He was so gently supportive that Chanyeol almost blurted out the whole story.

Almost. 

He bit down on his tongue and unrolled his mattress in silence.  “Thank you, D.O.,” he said instead. 

“Good night, Chanyeol.”

 

The next morning, Chanyeol found Baekhyun at the table, his hands wrapped around a mug of coffee.  There were dark circles under his eyes and he didn’t so much as blink when Chanyeol came into the room. 

The frigid atmosphere and tense silence nearly drove Chanyeol back out of the room, but he wanted something to drink. 

“So you’re moving out,” Baekhyun broke the silence first, his words dropping like stones into the air between them.

“Have moved out,” Chanyeol replied, wondering why it was important now.  There was coffee to be had, and if they were going to fight again – which was almost inevitable at this point – he needed the caffeine surge. 

But instead of the expected argument, Baekhyun just silently got up from the table.  He paused in the doorway and glanced back quickly.  “I see,” he said, and disappeared down the hall.  Chanyeol retrieved his mug, intending to put it into the sink and nearly dropped it.  The coffee was stone cold and beginning to evaporate.  Guilt washed through him.  He dumped the mug in silence and rinsed the cup out so it wouldn’t stain, then left it in the sink and fled back to Kai and D.O.’s room. 

He spent much of the next week sleeping and didn’t know why.  He just couldn’t bring himself to get out of bed, even for meals.  Each day, the lines around Kyungsoo’s eyes got deeper and deeper, and Kai’s bouts of staring got longer and longer. 

It was Suho who confronted him once again, acting in his official capacity as leader.  “You’ve got to do something about this, Chanyeol,” he said again.  “Baekhyun’s not sleeping at all, you do nothing but sleep, you’re tearing this team apart!”

Guilt stabbed through him like a hot knife, but he could do nothing but gaze dully at the leader.  “What do you want me to do, Suho?  Baekhyun started it.  Baekhyun continues it.  I don’t even know why we’re fighting right now.”  To his shame and horror, tears welled up in his eyes.  Suho relented and hugged him.

“I’m sorry.  I’ll talk to him too.  But you two are going to have to work this out.  We can’t live like this.”

 

Weeks passed.  Nothing changed.  At his wits end, Chanyeol did something he’d never even considered before: he went out and deliberately picked up.  Not at the club; he went to a bar downtown, and didn’t even have to finish his beer before a pretty girl was next to him, smiling coyly.  They rented a room for the night, and he slept with her without even knowing her name.  Afterwards, he felt disgusting and unsatisfied.  It had been a struggle to even keep it up, a problem he’d never had with any of his previous girlfriends.  He left her sleeping in the bed and went to Club SiyahSarang.

Angelique was pleased to see him.  “It’s been a long time, Liebe,” she said warmly.  “You don’t look too good, though.  What’s up?”

“I need something strong.  Whatever you’ve got.  I just want to get drunk tonight.  Piss-ass, falling down stupid-drunk.  Please?”

The look in her eyes spoke volumes about what she thought of his plan, but she passed the shots down to him in a line.  “Do you need to talk about it?”

Chanyeol bit his lip.  The absolute last thing he wanted was to become like those sad men in movies who sat alone in bars, pouring out their woes to the bartenders.  He knocked back the first shot, gasping as it left a fiery trail from his tongue all the way to the bottom of his stomach.  The lights burned brighter, and everything took on a glassy, slightly surreal sheen.  “I don’t know if I can talk about it,” he said, and poured the second shot down his throat. 

By the time he’d gone through all of them, Angelique had replaced the alcohol with water, and Chanyeol found himself pouring the whole story out to her.  It was the middle of the week, and only a few regular patrons were wandering around, mostly socializing.  She pulled up a chair beside him and listened in sympathetic silence as he told of the night Sarang had worked them both over together, how wonderful it had been, how much he’d enjoyed it – and about how he realised that night just how much he wanted to be the one with Baekhyun.  Somehow, the little singer had become his most important person. 

She took his hand when he explained about the fight that kept escalating, how they were constantly at each other’s throats and couldn’t even be in the same room any more, and how it was tearing him apart inside.  He told her the foul thing he’d done earlier that night, going out and using someone for sex.

“I’ve never wanted to do that before,” he said.  “I hate myself right now for doing it, and I feel… dirty.”  He shuddered.  Angelique poured him another shot of alcohol.  “What if he doesn’t want me because of it?  What if he thinks I’m tainted now?” He scowled.  “I didn’t even want the girl.  I had to think of …  _him._   That was so wrong in so many ways.” He shuddered.

“Aww, sugar,” Angelique murmured.  She looked over his shoulder and shook her head.  “Not tonight,” she said to someone behind him.  Chanyeol, with his head on the bar, couldn’t even muster the energy to look up and see who she was talking to.  To his utter dismay, he felt himself begin to cry.  Angelique came around the bar again and sat next to him. 

“I wouldn’t be surprised if he hates me,” he said.  “I hate me.  I did lie to him.”

“Shh, shh.  It’ll be okay.  I know; love’s hard.”

The words made him jerk his head up in surprise.  “Love.”  He turned wide, disbelieving eyes on the bartender, not quite sure if he’d heard her correctly.  “You think this is love?”

“I’m sure of it,” she murmured, soothingly, rubbing gentle circles on his back. 

“I don’t want to be in love.  It hurts like a bitch.”

“I know.”  She patted him once more, then leaned back.  He buried his face in his crossed arms, still trying to stall the tears that wouldn’t be stifled.  This time he was physically aware of the presence of someone behind him, but he didn’t bother to turn around.  “Sarang, I think you should call,” Angelique said, confirming his guess. 

“Are you sure?” 

He’d never heard Sarang sound uncertain before, and it was enough to get his head back up off the bar.  Sarang sat down beside him, reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. 

“Liebe,” he said.  “ _Chanyeol._ ”  Making the distinction.  Even as he tried to figure out which of the three Sarangs in front of him was the real one, he appreciated the effort.  “Why are you here?”

“Needed a friend,” Chanyeol mumbled, without thinking.  He immediately wished he could take the words back, but he couldn’t deny their veracity.  Baekhyun didn’t look at him these days, much less talk to him – unless it was to yell at him.  None of the other members would have understood that he’d gone out and picked up a girl, and used her for unsatisfying sex.  They would be shocked, horrified.  They wouldn’t understand that he needed some sort of human connection because he felt so  _distant_  from all of them lately.  They certainly wouldn’t understand the need he hadn’t even known he harboured, the need that drove him back to this club week after week, despite the lies involved, despite the knowledge of what it would do to Baekhyun.

What it had done to Baekhyun. 

He finished his drink and a fresh bout of tears washed over him.  He put his head back down in his arms to stop the room from spinning unpleasantly.  “Just needed someone,” he mumbled.  Sarang squeezed his shoulder.  It was a friendly movement, supportive without being demanding.  Whatever his trips to the club had done to his relationship with Baekhyun, at least they’d brought him these people. 

Now if only they could fill the gaping hole in his chest where Baekhyun used to be.


	11. Dreams In The Darkness (Baekhyun Interlude)

**Chapter Ten – Baekhyun Interlude**

Baekhyun leaned back against the arm of the couch and tried not to let on how worried he was.  The other members were shooting him nervous glances, not quite saying anything – but then, they didn’t have to.  It was after midnight.  Chanyeol had been gone for  _hours._  

He wanted to go to sleep, but sitting in the empty room was a harsh reminder that his overreaction had driven Chanyeol away.  And he couldn’t blame it on the rapper – it was entirely his own fault.  Chanyeol scared him, that night in the club.  Scared him so badly that when the fear wore off, it turned into anger. 

Anger he’d taken out on Chanyeol. 

Which had driven him further away.  Since he couldn’t sleep in the empty room, he spent most of his nights dozing on the couch.  The other members had talked to him about it, asking about the fight, asking and asking over and over why Baekhyun couldn’t just let it go and make up with Chanyeol.  And since he couldn’t explain about the club…

He knew the managers were going to get involved soon.  He’d resolved to sit down and at least apologise to Chanyeol, but the other singer had walked out the door just after five that evening and  _still_  wasn’t back.  The rest were gathered in the living room around a movie, but they were all reluctant to part, and Baekhyun knew why – they were all waiting for – and dreading – the phone call that might come at any minute, telling them that something serious had happened. 

A car accident.  A mugging.  Something more serious.  There were a hundred thousand things that could go wrong in the city, and Baekhyun was on the edge of his seat thinking about all of them.  He knew Chanyeol was depressed; it had been sweet, kind-hearted Kyungsoo who’d looked it up on the internet and told him that Chanyeol’s newfound habit of sleeping fifteen hours a day whenever he could get away with it was a sign of depression.  He’d also added that  _not_  sleeping was another sign, and he’d used the information to start another well-meaning conversation about _making up,_  forgiving the hurtful words they’d both flung at each other over the last few weeks, and moving on.

The sound of his phone ringing cut through his thoughts like a hot knife through butter.  Baekhyun felt his stomach hit his feet even as his heart leapt up into his throat.  He didn’t want to answer it.  Didn’t want to know what happened. 

Kai, in the guise of being helpful, prodded him.  “Baekhyun, your phone.”

Numb, Baekhyun pulled it from his pocket and answered without looking at the name. “Hello.”

“Starling my darling.”  Sarang’s voice took him off guard.  He’d been expecting the police, or at best, the manager.  “We’d be much obliged if you’d come collect your friend.  I don’t know where you live, and I’m afraid to let him out on his own.”

“What?”

Immediately, the other members were practically on top of him.  “What is it?  Is Chanyeol okay?  Is it the cops?”

Baekhyun might have laughed if he could get his mind around it.  The others were worried about the exact same thing he was.  He waved them off.  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean he came in here a few hours ago and told Angelique he wanted to get falling-down drunk, and he’s succeeded.  He needs to go home, and we don’t know where you live.”

“Why?”

Sarang sighed, a heavy, long-suffering sound.  “Do I have to make this an order?  Get your ass down here and get him home.”

“I’m on my way,” Baekhyun said, not even stopping to think.  At least he was alive. 

Suho stopped him before he could even get off the couch.  “Was that about Chanyeol?  Where is he?”

Baekhyun blinked, realising the rest were crowded around and waiting for his answer.  “Uh, a friend’s house,” he lied smoothly.  “They told me to come get him.”

“I’ll go with you.”  At least three voices made the offer.  Baekhyun panicked.  He couldn’t lead them to SiyahSarang’s, it would ruin  _everything._

“That’s okay, it’s not far.  I’ll be right back.  And I’ll take my phone with me.”  He laid a subtle emphasis on the words, scolding an absent Chanyeol for forgetting his mobile.  He was up and out the door before anyone else could protest or argue, and hurried down the stairs instead of taking the elevator in case any of them tried to follow him.

The twenty-minute walk passed in seconds.  Siberian didn’t even stop him; the doorman simply saw him coming and stepped back, holding the door open for him.  He burst into the nearly-empty club like a whirlwind, and paused only long enough to find Chanyeol sitting at the bar.  Angelique and Sarang were holding him up, talking to him.  Fury descended on him like a red mist, and for a moment he nearly let it get the better of him. 

He took a moment to stop and breathe.  Starting a fight wouldn’t do any good.  When he was sure he could talk to them without starting a screaming match, he crossed the floor and came up to the trio.  “Chanyeol,” he said, and congratulated himself on keeping his voice level.  “Where have you been?  We’re worried about you.”

“Funny,” Chanyeol said, focusing on him with difficulty.  “I would have thought you’d have been happier if I fell under a bus.”  He swayed gently on the stool, and Sarang stepped closer to make sure he didn’t topple off it. 

Baekhyun flinched.  “That’s not true,” he said quietly.  “Come on, you need to come home now.”

“Home is where the heart is, right?  So that means I’m home right now.”

It hurt.  It hurt like  _hell._   With a supreme effort, Baekhyun kept it from showing on his face.  “Your heart is here in this club?”

“Sure is,” Chanyeol said, with the ghost of his old cocky smile tugging at his lips.  “Right here at the bottom of one of Angelique’s bottles of booze.”

Angelique shook her head in reply to his unspoken question when he looked at her.  “He’s drunk, Starling.  He’s been drinking steadily since about nine this evening.”

“And you let him?”

“He needed it.”  It was all she would say.  Baekhyun knew from experience that that was the most he was going to get out of her. 

Baekhyun took Chanyeol’s arms and tugged him off the bar stool, supporting his weight when he would have fallen flat on his face.  It was depressingly reminiscent of the night they’d spent here together – the night that revealed Chanyeol’s lies to him.  “Can you tell me why you felt the need to disappear and then get drunk?”

“I’m a disgusting person and I deserve to die.”

The words were so matter of fact that it took Baekhyun a moment to absorb their meaning.  He nearly stumbled, himself.  “ _What?_ ”  With an effort, he got them moving.  Chanyeol looked up at him – possible only because he was listing so far to the side he was about to pull them both down – and gave a twisted smile. 

“I did a bad thing.”  When it looked like that was all he was going to say, Baekhyun cast around for something to say.  This was the most civil a conversation they’d had in days.  Possibly weeks.  Neither of them was yelling yet. 

“Okay, what did you do?”

“Something so ugly that I hate myself right now.  It was worse than lying to you and fighting with you.  You hate me, too.  So I just wanted to make it go away for a little while.  Angelique is so nice.  I love her.”

Baekhyun choked.  “Angelique is a  _man._ ”

“Men can love men,” Chanyeol announced indignantly.  “Besides, she wants to be seen and treated as a woman.  It’s the least I can do.  She’s a good friend.”  He sighed gustily.  “I wish I were in love with her instead.  It might even be easier.”

“Easier than what?  What are you even talking about?”

Chanyeol leaned back and looked up, nearly overbalancing them both again.  “I love someone who doesn’t know,” he confided.  “I didn’t even know it was love until Angelique told me tonight.  And because I didn’t even know, heh- they don’t even know.   And it’ll never be more than one-sided.  And I did something terrible.”

Baekhyun despaired of getting any sense out of him.  Surprisingly, however, instead of getting angry, he found himself… amused.  Drunk Chanyeol was a funny Chanyeol.  “So this one-sided love lead you to do something bad?”

“No.  Well, yes.  I didn’t find out about the love until after, but when I was thinking about it, I knew that I did the bad thing because of the love.” 

“What does that even  _mean?_   What did you do?”

“I fucked some girl,” Chanyeol declared.  “I don’t even know her name.  I found her in a bar and she was pretty so I fucked her, and then I felt like a whore, so I went and talked to Angelique.”

Jealousy sank through him like a white-hot knife, carving open his chest and spilling his blood invisibly onto the ground.  It took every ounce of self-control he had left not to start another screaming match.  “Why would you do that?”

Chanyeol rolled his head around to look him in the eye.  “Are you stupid or deaf?” he asked.  “I just told you.  I love someone impossible.” 

“You’re  _being_  impossible,” Baekhyun muttered, making an effort to be the bigger person – and because he was  _not_  going to lose an argument with a drunk man – and not react with anger over his words.  After a moment, it didn’t take any effort.  Chanyeol could barely stand upright, much less walk straight, and all of his concentration went towards getting them safely out the door.  Manhandling the inebriated rapper against the wall for support, he dug his phone out of his pocket and texted the others, telling Kai to move Chanyeol’s mattress back into their room.  If he woke up sober, and still depressed, he could move it back if he wanted, but Baekhyun wasn’t letting Chanyeol out of his sight until the alcohol burned off. 

And deep down inside, he didn’t want the other man to be alone.  He would have trusted Jongin and Kyungsoo with his life, but there was no way he was going to trust them with Chanyeol’s. 

 

There was an uproar when they arrived back at the dorm, but Baekhyun – and Kyungsoo, god bless his nurturing soul – managed to get Chanyeol inside and into the bedroom with almost no trouble.  Suho was positively frothing at the mouth, he was so angry, but Sehun drew him aside and redirected his emotion towards worry, something else Baekhyun was grateful for.  By that time, Chanyeol was pretty much asleep on his feet, and it didn’t take much maneuvering to get him into the bed, and get his shoes off. 

“Roll onto your side,” Baekhyun said, pushing him.  Chanyeol grumbled unintelligibly.  “Roll, now!”

“Like a buffalo,” Chanyeol slurred, but obeyed.  He cracked one eye open and gazed blearily at Baekhyun in silence for a long moment.  “Why?”

“In case you throw up, you don’t choke yourself to death.”  He felt the  _idiot_  was implied with his tone and didn’t need to be said. 

“Oh.  Thank you.”

Baekhyun blinked in surprise, but before he could form a reply, Chanyeol was snoring lightly.  The feeling, the presence of another body in the room – of Chanyeol in the room, specifically – was a long-forgotten comfort.  He lay on his side, watching the rapper sleep, and it wasn’t long before he started to drift off, himself.  Later, he told himself he’d dreamed what came next.

Out of the darkness, Chanyeol murmured, “Thank you,” again.  Then, “I love you.”   


	12. Holding Together With Legos And Chewing Gum

**Chapter Eleven**

Chanyeol rolled over and groaned, convinced he was dying.  The only other alternative he could come to was that he’d already died, and that this was hell, and since he couldn’t contemplate an eternity of pain that felt like this, he preferred to hope it was the process and not the end result that he was undergoing.  His entire brain throbbed.  His eyes felt like needles were being driven into them.  His tongue felt swollen and thick, and even the muscles in his face hurt.  His mouth tasted like it had been scrubbed out and stuffed with week-old gym socks. 

He gurgled something that was supposed to be, ‘Someone kill me faster,’ and came out sounding like “Blurghfell muttleful.” 

When he finally managed to get himself into a sitting position, the first thing he noticed was that the shades had been drawn down over the window, muting the incoming sunlight.  What little bit crept in through the blinds was harsh and painful enough, and he was grateful for whoever had failed to draw the blinds back that morning.  The second thing he realised was that he was in his old room.  Baekhyun’s room. 

His heart nearly stopped dead in his chest, and then he noticed he was alone.  It was another type of agony in and of itself, but a slightly more welcome one than the pounding headache assailing him. 

The third thing he noticed was the tall glass of ice water, two pills, and note on his bedside table.  The note read, “ _Idiot,_ ” in Baekhyun’s looping scrawl, and the tablets proclaimed themselves to be advil.  Grateful beyond words, Chanyeol swallowed them dry, then drained the water before staggering out of bed and into the hallway. 

Moving was a new experience.  He felt like his whole head had been put through a meat grinder and then hastily reassembled with legos and chewing gum.  The ground wobbled, seemingly too far beneath him.  He used the walls to support himself on his way into the kitchen, desperate for more water.  It wasn’t until he was faced with Baekhyun in the living room sofa, laughing at a joke Kyungsoo was telling, that it really occurred to him what he’d done the night before that lead to the hangover he was now experiencing. 

He couldn’t even remember what the girl looked like.  He certainly couldn’t remember why it had seemed like such a good idea.  Horrified by himself, he fled the room, retreating back to his bedroom.  He wanted to bury his head under his pillow and never come back out again. 

Much to his dismay, Baekhyun followed him. 

“I’m glad you’re still alive,” Baekhyun started cautiously.  Chanyeol shook his head.

“I wish I wasn’t.  I feel awful.  All over.”  He creaked one eye open with an effort, and debated the merits of hiding his face under the pillow regardless.  To his surprise, Baekhyun was… fighting a smile?   _Did I fall into an alternate dimension last night?_   Baekhyun hadn’t smiled at him in weeks. 

“You should.  You drank enough for three people last night.”

Chanyeol stared.  Baekhyun…didn’t seem like he was about to start a fight over it.  He was hanging back rather tentatively in the doorway, though.  “So are we friends again?”

“I hope so.  I’m…sorry I was kind of a jackass.”

“ _Kind of?_ ”

“Okay.  A complete jackass.”

“I accept,” Chanyeol said, and felt a weight lift off his chest.  “I’m sorry about… everything.”   _Last night,_  he meant.  Baekhyun knew. 

“I accept.  Would you like some more water?”

“Pleeeaaasseee.” 

And just like that, things were back to normal.  Mostly.  Normal Before didn’t leave Chanyeol with an unscratchable itch just beneath the surface of his skin.  He didn’t even realise how twitchy he was becoming until one of the others pointed it out.

“Did you forget your medication this morning, Chanyeol?”

“My what?”

“You’ve been driving me crazy with the fidgeting and the twitching and the general spazzing.” 

This left him totally bewildered.  “What spazzing?”

It was Baekhyun who pulled him aside and pointed it out.  “It’s like you’re wired for sound these days.  You’ve been driving us all crazy with it.  What’s the matter?”

“I don’t know.  I didn’t even realise I was doing it.”  He caught himself tugging on the loose zipper of his jacket, just running it up and down the unclosed teeth, and forcibly stopped himself.  While Baekhyun studied him, he found himself twisting the hemline of his shirt.  He  _was_  fidgety.  He felt too hot and tight all over, like his skin stopped fitting correctly. 

Baekhyun’s beautiful eyes narrowed.  “When was the last time you went to the club?”

His heart leapt up into his throat.  “That night,” he said, and Baekhyun, who could read most of his thoughts anyway, immediately leapt to the right conclusion.

“Getting smashed at the bar isn’t what I meant and you know it.  I mean,” he glanced around quickly to make sure they weren’t being eavesdropped on.  Evidently the coast was clear.  “Sarang.”

A tiny thrill of excitement shimmied its way up his spine at the mere mention of the name.  “That night with you.  Before our fight started.”

Baekhyun was honestly surprised.  “It’s been that long?  Why don’t you call him.” 

He somehow failed to add the question mark that should have been at the end of that sentence.  “I don’t know,” Chanyeol hedged, deeply uncomfortable.  Looking remarkably mature about everything, Baekhyun smiled. 

“That wasn’t a question.  Call him, Chanyeol, or I will.”

Calling him now felt like… a betrayal.  Some of it must have shown on his face, because Baekhyun’s smile turned from serene to impish. 

“Call him and go back,” Baekhyun ordered.  “Or I’ll never go back there with you again.”  

 

That was how Chanyeol found himself back at the club, on his knees and wearing the claim necklace around his throat.  The decorative S, with the little “ _Liebe_ ” hanging from it felt right in some ways.  Like it was meant to be there.  Sarang approached calmly, holding something Chanyeol couldn’t identify.  It was black, and long and slender, with a wide strip at one end.  Sarang smacked it against his palm, making Chanyeol flinch.  They were back in the private room, though when he’d first walked into the club, he could see Sarang eyeing one of the stages speculatively. 

“I heard from Starling tonight, Liebe,” he said, smacking the thing into his hand again.  Chanyeol flinched.  “He told me some interesting things.”

It didn’t seem to require an answer, so Chanyeol remained silent, keeping one eye on the whip-thing Sarang held. 

“Do you like this?  It’s called a riding crop.  Jockeys use it to goad their horses during races.  We in the underground scene have found a more…lucrative use for it.”  He smacked it into his palm a third time, and Chanyeol flinched harder, hearing the  _thwack_  like a physical blow against his skin.  Sarang continued.  “One of the things he told me was how he’d like to come back with you  - that was the deal he’d made to get you out here again in the first place, but I know him well.  That was just the excuse he needed to justify it to himself.  He’s been coming here like we’re his dirty little secret for quite a long time, but he never seemed to take real joy in any of it until you began showing up, as well.  I’ve decided to grant his request – the next time you come here will be with him.”

Chanyeol risked a glance up into his face and saw a benevolently mysterious smile. 

“It will also be the last time you come as my sub.  After tonight, and the next time with Starling, I will begin training you to dominance.”

Heat raced through his veins at the words.  “Yes, sir,” he whispered.

“But tonight is for punishment.  Both for withholding yourself for so long, and for hurting my Starling.  Possibly you will find benediction in it, though I doubt you will find anything half so pleasant as Starling.  Sometimes I envy him his gifts.” 

Which reminded Chanyeol that Baekhyun actually found pleasure in these so-called ‘punishments.’  If it was done right, he got off on being hit.  Since Sarang was annoyed with them both, Chanyeol figured he was going to get the rawest end of the entire deal. 

“Strip,” Sarang ordered.  Chanyeol obediently peeled his clothes off, folding them neatly before returning to his position on the floor.  “Present,” added Sarang, and it took a moment for him to remember what that command entailed.  He still didn’t get it right, and was struck so quickly with the crop that his skin felt hot before the pain reached his brain.  He hissed through his teeth, but widened the gap between his knees.  The crop came down several times on his thighs before Sarang moved behind him and began working on his back and shoulders and ass.  He didn’t think much of it at first – it stung slightly, that was all – but as the blows layered over one another, it became painful.  That was when Sarang stopped, tossing the crop away before coming close and touching him.  Silk gloves rendered his hands soft and delicate, and the feeling of the massaging fingers on his abused muscles turned the pain into something else entirely. 

He was breathing heavily, half-hard by the time Sarang was done.  “Stand, and hold onto the bed-post,” Sarang ordered.  Chanyeol unfolded himself with difficulty, using the frame to lever himself upwards.  He was stiff from kneeling in one position from so long, and sore with a residual heat from the riding crop.  When he was supported against the post with both hands, Sarang took up the crop again and started all over again.  Body buzzing from the endorphins, Chanyeol grew from half-hard to fully erect under the force of the blows, each one translating instantly from pain into a stinging pleasure.

“Don’t let go of the post, Liebe,” Sarang ordered.  It was no difficulty – he’d have fallen over if he let go.  Once more the crop was thrown down, but this time no silk-gloved hand came for him.  “Punishment, Liebe,” Sarang murmured at his ear.  “You’re going to stay that way.  You are  _not_  allowed to make yourself come at any time between now and the next time I see you.” 

“Which will be with Starling,” Chanyeol gasped, and tried to contemplate getting back to the dorm in this condition. 

“Very good.  I’ll see you then.”  Sarang helped him dress, and then paused.  “Did you find what you needed here tonight?”

Chanyeol froze, and then considered.  He’d been tense, shaky, unable to concentrate for longer than a minute or two.  He’d been wound tighter than a spring.  Despite the lack of climax, he felt loose and languid, utterly at peace. 

The smile he bestowed on Sarang said everything he needed.

 

Walking in jeans was a form of torture all its own.  When he finally made it back to the dorm, everyone had retired to their bedrooms, a small favour he was intensely grateful for.  Baekhyun was sitting up in bed reading comic books when he came in and flopped down, kicking his shoes off and leaving them wherever they fell. 

“Do you feel better?”

“Mm.”

“It was a good idea, right?”

“Well.”  Chanyeol rolled with effort and looked up at his best friend and roommate.  “Tonight it was a good idea.  Tomorrow… not so much.”  And not the next few nights, either, not if he wasn’t allowed to ‘take care’ of himself.  

“What?  Why?”  Baekhyun was up off the bed and next to him between one breath and the next.  Chanyeol pulled his shirt off and Baekhyun hissed sympathetically.  “Good grief.  Why do you even go if it hurts you so badly?  I thought you… enjoyed it?”  He reached out and tentatively stroked an unmarked strip of skin across Chanyeol’s back.  The light touch combined with the throbbing sting and went straight to his still-hard dick. 

“He usually… makes it worth it,” Chanyeol gasped, and pulled away.  “Please don’t.”

Baekhyun flinched back.  “Does it hurt very much?  Wait, what do you mean ‘usually’?”

“Not so much,” Chanyeol said, and shifted his hips.  “I mean he told me I can’t … do anything… until I go back.  With you.” 

Baekhyun looked thoughtful.  “I don’t understand why you go, if you get nothing out of it except pain.” 

“I didn’t say there was nothing but pain.”

“What were his exact orders?”

Chanyeol had to reach to find the memory.  “I am not allowed to get myself off until I see him next,” he said. 

“So,” Baekhyun said, and trailed a finger down his spine.  Chanyeol arched, then hissed.  “This hurts,” he said, speculatively. 

“Yes, but I can’t –”

“I can.”

“What?”  He was sure he was hearing things.  Baekhyun slipped one hand under his hips and rubbed at his erection through his jeans.  He wasn’t hearing things.

“Your orders were not to make yourself come.  You’re not.  I want to help you.”  With one hand on his back and one on his dick, Baekhyun massaged him gently.  The tiny push-pull of pleasure-pain had him gasping within minutes.  “So that’s how he does it,” Baekhyun murmured.  “Get your pants off.” 

With Baekhyun’s help, he wriggled out of his jeans, and then lay back gasping when Baekhyun returned to the handjob.   “You know, I’ve never done this before,” he said, almost conversationally.  He was watching Chanyeol’s face like an eagle, experimenting with flicking his wrist and fluttering his fingers, watching the changes in Chanyeol’s expression as the pleasure mounted.  The sheets were rough against his sore back, but the pain only made the teasing touches more intense. 

“What?”  Remembering that he could speak was harder than he’d thought.  “Never?”

“Only to myself.”

And now he was picturing Baekhyun in the bed next to his, or in the shower, doing these same things to himself.  His dick was leaking pre-come like a faucet.  Baekhyun, totally shameless, ran his fingers through it and lifted them to his mouth, his tongue flicking out to taste it.  Chanyeol was breathless with desire.  “So you’re a virgin?”

“Absolutely.”

“Only to- oh, do that again… toys?”

“Not even his fingers.” 

“Oh my god.”  He couldn’t stand it anymore. “Ba-Baekhyun!”  He was coming hard, spilling all over his stomach and Baekhyun’s hand.   After a few minutes, he caught his breath back and found Baekhyun thoughtfully cleaning him up.  He caught the shorter singer’s wrist and looked up into his eyes.  “I want to blow you,” he said.  Baekhyun’s breath hitched.

“What?”

“Think of it as returning the favour.  I want to suck you off.” 

Suddenly shy, Baekhyun bit his lip before nodding his agreement.  Chanyeol, with absolutely zero experience at it, felt like he’d been given a gift.  He started small, watching Baekhyun’s expression change with each new sensation.  He pulled back and used his hand for a moment, working his jaw. 

“I’ve never done this, either,” he confided.  Baekhyun’s wide-eyed expression was almost comical. 

“What?”

“I’ve had it done to me,” Chanyeol admitted.   All it usually took was a whispered plea in his deep, husky voice and a pretty smile with wide eyes and the girls fell all over themselves to suck him off.  “But I’ve never done it to anyone else before.  Never been interested enough in a guy.”  He realised at the last second that he was venturing into dangerous territory, and put his mouth to a better use.  Baekhyun didn’t get very loud, but he was gasping and incoherent by the time he finished.  They drifted off to sleep side by side, still in Chanyeol’s bed together.

 

It was Kai who cornered him with it the next morning. 

“So does this mean you two are a couple now?”

Chanyeol sprayed his water into the sink and choked.  Kai pounded his back while he tried to get his breath back.  “Don’t just suddenly say such things,” he said, gasping.  Kai lifted one eyebrow and tilted his head back imperiously.

“It’s a perfectly rational question.  We all know you had a huge fight over something neither of you will discuss, and we all know you two slept together last night.”

Chanyeol felt the cup slip out of suddenly nerveless fingers and had a single second to be glad it was plastic and wouldn’t shatter before it hit the ground and splashed them both with water.  Kai cursed and jumped back, then went for a towel while Chanyeol stood frozen in place, unable to process the information he’d just been handed.  “How can you possibly,” he started, and then cut himself off.  “No.  We didn’t – it’s not – you’re just…”

“You weren’t exactly subtle about it,” Kai said, kneeling to mop the water up.   “I’m not kidding.   _Everyone knows._ ”

“I can’t even,” Chanyeol said, then staggered back until the counter hit his hip.  He used it to support himself while he tried to come to grips with the knowledge.  “How can you just say things so casually?”

“We want to know if it’s going to affect things for Exo.  Trust me, I’m not exactly thrilled to be talking about this with you either.  It was me or Sehun, and I’m not about to let that kid talk to you about it.”

Grateful for something else to latch onto than his newfound lovelife, Chanyeol arched a brow at him.  “You’re only a couple of months older than him,” he said flatly. 

“I’ve had sex,” Kai announced.  Chanyeol inhaled so sharply he tried to breathe spit and choked again.  Kai waited to make sure he was still breathing before continuing.  “And we all know he’d like to bag Luhan, but hasn’t yet.”

“Oh my god.”

“Do you think it’s going to mess us up?”

“We’re not together.”

Kai’s expression darkened.  “Are you using him for se-”

“ _No!_   Oh my god!  Where – what are you even talking about?”  Chanyeol dragged a hand through his hair and then over his face.  “I mean, we haven’t even talked about that yet.  It  _just_  happened!  Okay?  It just  _happened._   There was no foresight or planning or discussion.  Speaking of discussions, this one is over!”

Kai reached for him, but Chanyeol was closer to the door and escaped.  Baekhyun looked up from the couch with a cheerful smile Chanyeol could only half return.  He was looking forward to climbing back into bed, going back to sleep, and maybe waking up all over again and doing this morning over again, minus the awkward, embarrassingly personal conversation.  His back was throbbing, he now had a headache, and just getting back in bed and not coming back out was beginning to look like a good plan.  He locked the bedroom door behind himself, figuring that if Baekhyun wanted into the room badly enough he could pick the lock, and turned around ready to flop into bed before letting out an unmanly shriek. 

Sehun waved cheerfully from Baekhyun’s still-made bed.  “I could tell it wasn’t going so hot for him in the kitchen and came to help out.”

“Newsflash, Sehun,  _you’re not helping!_ ”  He pressed himself against the door hoping he could melt through it, but all he succeeded in doing was further irritating his sore back.  He winced and shifted his weight.  Sehun, apparently an eagle in his past life with some remnants in this one, missed none of it.

“I never would have figured Baekhyun to be the type to –”

“Do not finish that sentence if you want to live to see your next birthday.” 

Sehun shut his mouth with an audible  _click_ , but the silence didn’t last long.  “From what I overheard – by the way, everyone overheard it, Baekhyun included –” and he’d still smiled like that, which in the depths of his soul, Chanyeol found somewhat relieving – “You seem to be having a little bit of trouble communicating.”

“What?”

“I’ve been talking to Luhan,” Sehun continued blithely, as if Chanyeol hadn’t spoken.  Chanyeol began to consider the possible ways he could commit a murder-suicide with no sharp objects handy.  “He’s the one who said that first, but the more I thought about it, the more I realised its true.  Most of your problems stem from your lack of communication.  If you’d been upfront and honest with Baekhyun from the very beginning about your feelings, you might not have had the fight, and then it wouldn’t have taken you so long to get to this point in your relationship.”

“Sehun.”

“So what I’m saying is that you should just spit out the first things that come to mind, instead of keeping them to yourself.  If you really love Baekhyun then you should have no trouble speaking to him, but I do agree with Kai, we’re all really worried about what will happen if you two break up, and –”

“Sehun, get out of my bedroom right now before I kill you.”  He unlocked the door and held it open.  Sehun took the hint and beat a hasty retreat.  Chanyeol locked the door behind him, and then searched the bedroom just in case any of the others were hiding in the room.

“Finally,” he muttered, and crawled under his covers, pulling the pillow over his head.  It smelled of Baekhyun’s shampoo.  He found himself grinning kind of stupidly, and then recalled Kai’s questions.   _Will it affect things for Exo?  Are you using him for sex?_

The answer to the second was a resounding, definitive  _no._   Absolutely not.  If he just wanted to get off, there were other options.  He could pull, he could jerk off, or he could go to the club and find someone.  The things he had with Baekhyun were…special.

He groaned, realising that even in his head he sounded like a girl.  As to the first question… He had no answer.  It bothered him, but all he could really do was promise himself he would  _try_  not to let it get so bad that the others noticed.

Of course, if the interfering busybodies would stay out of his business in the first place, everyone would be a lot happier.

The next thing he was aware of was someone blowing in his ear.  It caused a quick shiver up and down his spine before he stopped to wonder who was doing it.  If it was Baekhyun, he had no objections.  If it was anyone else…

Baekhyun beamed at him when he opened his eyes.  “Good morning, sleepyhead!”  The smile faded.  “Actually, it’s after noon.  How do you sleep so much?”

“Sleeping is better than being awake and talking to everyone about my love-life,” Chanyeol muttered before recalling who he was talking to.  His face flamed, but Baekhyun seemed to not notice.

“I talked to Sarang.  We’re going back tomorrow night.”

“Thank you for discussing that with me first,” Chanyeol said, more to be contrary than out of any sense of actual disappointment.  Baekhyun laughed.

“Are we having a lover’s tiff?”

“I don’t know.  No,” he amended immediately.  Baekhyun gave him a puzzled look.  Chanyeol seized his courage with both hands.  “We’d have to be lovers to have a lover’s tiff,” he explained.  “And once doesn’t make us lovers.  But if you’d like… we could be.”

“What…?”

Finally.  It was so nice to be the one putting other’s off their stride, instead of being the one caught out with no words.  “I’m asking you… to be my boyfriend.  Or my lover.  Whichever you’re comfortable being.” 

His expression was completely blank, which didn’t bode well for their future relationship status.  Chanyeol began to realise that curiousity and caring might not mean love, or even intense like.  He regretted the words already, and buried his head under his pillow.  “Or not,” he mumbled, hoping he could smother himself before Baekhyun caught on and stopped him. 

“I’d have to think about it,” Baekhyun said cautiously, tugging on the pillow.  “But I think… I’d like that.”

Reluctantly, Chanyeol withdrew from his self-made cave and looked at the other singer.  “Which one?”

“Either one,” Baekhyun said, his expression getting lighter as his mind was made up.  “I didn’t think you’d be interested.”

“Wonder of wonders,” Chanyeol said softly.  “Sehun was right.”

Baekhyun laughed.


	13. Because Sarang Was Satan In A Past Life

**Chapter Twelve**

For some reason, he felt awkward and stiff walking into the club for the first time since he’d first started going.  Baekhyun’s fingers were intertwined with his and he happily swung their hands back and forth as they walked down the hall with Siberian’s super-happy thousand-megawatt smile irradiating them from behind.   They both openly wore their Claims around their neck, another thing that was setting him on edge.  Seeing it on Baekhyun’s throat evoked a mixture of desire and jealousy.  Desire because seeing anything around Baekhyun’s throat was sexy.  Jealousy… well, he hadn’t realised quite how much he wanted to see that  _ **S**_  gone and replaced with a mark of his own.  An  _L_  maybe, or a  _C_. 

Sarang met them at the bar, and invited them both to the private room.  Angelique took one look at the both of them and burst out laughing.  It was a friendly, warm sort of laughter, however, and not mocking.  If it had been derisive in any way, Chanyeol would have taken Baekhyun right back out of the club and never gone back.  As it was, he had to swallow past a lump in his throat.  Angelique knew what it meant that both of them were there together.

Again.

“You haven’t disobeyed me, have you Liebe?”  Sarang asked, once the door was closed behind them.  Baekhyun went and immediately settled himself on the bed; Chanyeol envied him his easy comfort.  And how was he supposed to answer  _that?_  

“It was obeyed to the letter,” Chanyeol replied, wondering if Sarang would pick up on the nuance.

He did.  “Ah, I see.  To the letter.”  He glanced at Baekhyun, who grinned back at him.  “As long as it was obeyed, I have no issue.  As for tonight…”  He looked Baekhyun up and down.  Baekhyun was wearing jeans and a tee-shirt, with a sweater.  Chanyeol felt nervousness take hold at the base of his spine and clamp down fiercely, refusing to budge.  His palms were damp with it.  “You’ll do, Starling.  As you are.”  Baekhyun was obviously surprised, but he said nothing even when Sarang turned to Chanyeol.  “As for you, Liebe… Clothes are in the washroom.  Change.”

He nodded and slipped into the bathroom adjoining the private room, pushing the door closed without latching it.  A paper bag rested on the toilet lid.  Chanyeol steeled himself, and dug the clothes out of the bag.  He was astonished to see a black version of Baekhyun’s sheer-pyjama outfit.  It glittered with reflected light.  The sleeves were long and loose, the trousers almost like a skirt they were so full.  But sheer. 

Completely see-through. 

A pair of black briefs accompanied the little suit.  If not for them, he would be completely naked and completely… displayed.  He swallowed past the lump and stripped off his clothes to change.  It startled him when the pyjama suit fit perfectly, with only a few inches of extra fabric at the sides.  The trousers were snug at the waist, but loose everywhere else.  He folded his clothes and looked up at himself in the full length mirror.  The transparent black fabric was grey against his skin, but set off his eyes and his golden hair.  The Claim nestled in the hollow of his throat like it belonged there.  It rose and fell as he swallowed again.  The overall effect was stunning.  He didn’t even recognise himself.

“Liebe?  Do the clothes fit?”

Sarang’s voice drifted in through the still-open door, and Chanyeol pulled it open and stepped out.  “Yes, sir,” he answered, and wished like hell he could look up and see what the reaction would be to his appearance. 

Sarang didn’t disappoint.  “You look marvelous, Liebe.  Doesn’t he, Starling?”

Baekhyun’s voice was slightly breathless.  “Oh, yes.”

“Liebe, why don’t you tell me if you approve?”

“Of the clothes… Master?”

“Of Starling.”  Sarang’s voice was darkly amused.  Chanyeol looked up and saw the heat of desire in Sarang’s eyes.  He flicked his gaze past him to Baekhyun who was…

Who was…

He swallowed again, but this time it was an attempt to get some saliva into his suddenly dry mouth.  Baekhyun was shirtless, and strapped at both wrists and ankles to the X-restraint.  It shouldn’t have been hot.

It was.   _Oh,_  it  _was._  

Being restrained and helpless was already affecting him.  Even from across the room, Chanyeol could see how his pupils were dilated, his eyes nearly black with it, and the way his chest rose and fell rapidly as he breathed.  The sight of Chanyeol seemed to be doing things to him, as well.  Chanyeol was the most glad about that, because the sight of Baekhyun was certainly doing things to  _him._

Sarang interrupted them.  “I am glad I got to see you in this at least once, Liebe,” he said.  “Now come here.”  Chanyeol obediently stepped forward, unable to keep his eyes away from Baekhyun for long. 

Baekhyun, the tease, noticed his attention and tilted his head back to expose his throat, licking his lips. 

Chanyeol didn’t even notice Sarang wrapping his wrists into the leather D-ring straps.  He noticed when the dom attached them to the ropes of the ceiling-pulley and yanked his arms above his head, however.  “What?”

“I’ve decided about what to do tonight,” Sarang said, with a smile that was nothing short of lascivious.  “Last time it was Starling while you watched.”  He let the sentence dangle, and Chanyeol realised that this time it would be Baekhyun watching  _him._

His knees went out from under him and his shoulders protested the strain of taking his entire weight, supported by his wrists from the ceiling.  Sarang didn’t give him any time to recover his balance before he was kneeling and attaching the spreader-bar to his ankles, knocking his feet apart.  It left him breathless again to be so on display.  And this time he was nearly naked.  Baekhyun’s smile was slow and smouldering.   

Sarang stepped back and surveyed him briefly.  “What do you think, Starling?  Oh, something’s missing.”  He looked thoughtful for a moment while Chanyeol tried not to meet Baekhyun’s heated gaze.  “Aha, I have it.”  He returned to the bureau and went first to Baekhyun with a ball gag.  It was indescribably hot to see Baekhyun with the rubber ball in his mouth, preventing him from speaking.  Sarang went once more to the bureau, and this time came to Chanyeol with something small and black in his hands.  When he stretched it out between his fingers, Chanyeol realised it was the blindfold.  It settled over his eyes smoothly and Sarang took care to tie it tightly without pulling his hair.  He was still super-aware of Baekhyun’s presence in the room, however. 

“For you, Liebe, I have something special planned tonight.  This is something of my own design.  It took nearly two months to put it together, with some three or four people helping me with the production.  My biggest regret at the moment is that the temperature control was a no-go for the prototype.  Perhaps I’ll figure out a way before we market it for sale.”

“What do you mean?”  Chanyeol hated that his voice was breathy and helpless.  He was keenly aware of Baekhyun’s attention and wished he could be a little cooler about the whole situation. 

“My original idea would become warm and cold by turns, but without making it too large to be useful, there was no way to implement it.  As it is, we accomplished a great deal.  You’ll have to tell me later how well it works; this is the first trial.”

“I still don’t understa- _ah!_ ” 

Sarang had taken … scissors?... and cut the back of the shirt away.  The excess fabric bunched at his shoulders and swished freely against his chest, an agonising touch against his sensitive skin.  “That’s for later,” Sarang explained.  “Pity to ruin it, but they are cheap to buy.  I will have to acquire a replacement for you, as I think Starling was sorry to see this one destroyed.”  A light, silk-gloved finger trailed up his spine, making him shiver.  Sarang moved away, and began a monologue about his new invention.

“The hardest part was finding a silicone mixture that would stretch as needed without tearing or being too stiff to be useful,” he was saying.  He was somewhere behind Chanyeol, from the sound of his voice.  Somewhere in front of him, Baekhyun watched helplessly.  Chanyeol’s breathing hitched at the thought of it.  “And it’s totally wireless, so getting the balls to stay in place was my next challenge.  Luckily I have a friend who was able to help me create the skeleton, light enough that it wouldn’t be an issue but strong enough to support everything.” 

The images his words were putting in Chanyeol’s head were frankly terrifying.  He wasn’t so sure he wanted this to continue, and nothing had happened yet. 

“All in all, I think you’ll enjoy it, Liebe,” Sarang said, and startled Chanyeol by being right behind him.  Fingers hooked into the waistband of both the pants and briefs and tugged them down.  Chanyeol bit back a curse, and allowed Sarang to do whatever he was doing.  To his surprise, Sarang didn’t pull them entirely off – just down slightly.  He started to frown when something pressed against his most intimate area.  He recognised the feeling of a dildo, or perhaps a vibrator based on Sarang’s comments, and relaxed as much as he was able while Sarang pushed it into his body.  It narrowed abruptly as plugs did, and he could feel the wide base flush against his skin.  His body tingled from the intrusion, but Sarang had used enough lubrication that it wasn’t painful. 

Leather straps went around his thighs and waist, and then Sarang pulled the briefs and pants back up over his hips, covering him again with the toy still inside. 

“Don’t be shy about this now, Liebe,” Sarang said, a hint of warm amusement in his voice.  The tone sent shivers up and down Chanyeol’s spine.  They weren’t entirely pleasant, because every time Sarang got that tone, it didn’t bode well for the night.  “Feel free to tell me what’s happening, while you still can.” 

The words were faintly ominous, but the order was unmistakable despite the light and suggestive tone. 

“Yes, sir,” he answered.  Springs creaked and covers rustled, and Chanyeol guessed that Sarang had settled himself onto the bed.  Not being able to see was driving him crazy, and nothing had happened yet. 

The toy burst into life, vibrating gently.  It was surprising enough that he jerked. 

“Anything, Liebe?”

Sarang would drag it out of him if necessary.  “Vibration,” Chanyeol said, his voice already unsteady.  He was hyper-aware of a second set of breaths in the room, and of a too-familiar pair of eyes that were taking in everything.  It hadn’t taken Baekhyun very long at all to forget he was in the room when their positions were reversed, but Chanyeol was certain he’d never lose track of Baekhyun’s presence.  It was both terrifying and exhilarating to know he was watching, seeing Chanyeol tied up and helpless before whatever onslaught Sarang had planned. 

“Details, Liebe,” Sarang ordered, impatience colouring his voice.  Behind the blindfold, Chanyeol squeezed his eyes shut. 

“Vibrating gently,” he amended.  Immediately the vibrations kicked up a notch.  “Now it’s faster,” he added.  Then something weird started happening.  He held himself very still, trying to figure out what was different. 

It felt different.  It was moving, and not in the expected ways.  The vibrations became more powerful, and Chanyeol felt his breath coming faster with them.  “Now it’s… it’s…” he couldn’t find the words to describe it.  “Is it… getting bigger?”

“Nice, isn’t it?”

Chanyeol felt his mouth drop open as it somehow – impossibly; Sarang was a diabolical man – became thicker, stretching him. 

“Tell me when, Liebe,” came Sarang’s cryptic order, and then the thing changed again; it felt like it was writhing inside him.  Something brushed his prostate and he cried out involuntarily.  “Aha,” Sarang said, almost affectionately, and must have done something unseen because the writhing stopped, but the pressure against his prostate remained.   “That was a last minute addition.  The bottom is ridged for extra sensation, and part of it pushes out so that the ridges provide stimulation in the right spot, which is different for different people.”

Convinced that Sarang was Satan in a past life, Chanyeol couldn’t even get the breath for words.  Ragged moans tore their way out of his throat as his arousal careened out of control.  It took an embarrassingly short time for him to lose himself, and it wasn’t long after that that he was begging to be allowed release. 

“That rule is still the same, Liebe,” Sarang said, sounding almost bored.  “Come without permission and you  _will_  regret it.” 

“Please, please, please?”

“Mm, let me think… No.”

“Oh,  _god._ ”

The thing was  _pulsating_  inside him, the vibrations were rattling his brain inside his skull, and the pleasure washed through his body in unrelenting waves.  He twined his fingers around the ropes holding his wrists above his head and used them to ground himself in an increasingly futile attempt not to come before Sarang said he could.  His world narrowed to those two things; the pleasure, and the knowledge that he had to hold on.

Peripherally, he was aware of movement as Sarang left his position on the bed.  The bureau doors creaked as they opened, giving away Sarang’s intentions.  The blow, when it came, was from an unfamiliar implement.  It took him nearly a full minute to place it before remembering the riding crop.  The pain took the edge off his rising pleasure for a while, but as they both continued, the endorphins flowing through his brain turned even the sting of the whip into an unrelenting pleasure and his begging degenerated into gasping incoherency. 

He was vaguely aware of twisting to escape the crop as the blows layered themselves over his back and shoulders, sometimes slipping down to his thighs but never interfering with the toy that continued its devilish work inside him.  Suddenly, Sarang was at his back, stroking the burning skin.

“Come, Liebe,” Sarang ordered in a silky voice.  Chanyeol’s vision turned white with the force of his climax. 

 

When the aftershocks faded and full awareness returned – he hadn’t blacked out like the last time he’d been tied to the ceiling, but he’d felt disconnected in a floaty, distant way – the toy had been removed and put away, his feet were free, and Sarang was lowering him to the floor gently.

“You did so well,” Sarang murmured, one hand in his hair.  When he thought about it later, that was always his favourite part; knowing that Sarang was proud of him and pleased, and the flush of happiness that always accompanied the praise was almost better than the spectacular orgasms.  His knees hit the carpet and then the muscles in his arms screamed in protest as his weight was taken off them.  The ropes continued to slowly loosen, and his hands came down by degrees, his shoulders stiff with the effort of holding him up.  Once he was free, Sarang removed the blindfold and Chanyeol was treated to the sight of Baekhyun straining at his restraints, eyes glassy and mouth wide open as he panted.  Evidence of his desire tented his jeans as his hips moved involuntarily.

Chanyeol felt himself go pale, and then flush with the memories of it being  _him_  helpless to watch.  Seeing it on Baekhyun’s face was infinitely better than feeling it himself.  Baekhyun whined wordlessly around the gag when he noticed Chanyeol’s attention. 

“You see, Starling?  All that is needful with Liebe is working him up beforehand.”  Sarang reclined on the bed, looking between them both fondly.  “What do you think, Liebe?  Shall we allow him to come as well?”

Baekhyun whined again, pulling against the restraints.  Chanyeol flicked a glance up at Sarang, and then returned to Baekhyun before nodding.  “Yes, sir,” he said quietly.

“Clean yourself up in the bathroom and change out of that ruined suit.”

He wanted to argue about Baekhyun first, but he didn’t want to run the risk of making Baekhyun have to walk home in that condition if he disobeyed, or perhaps something even worse.  He rose slowly to his feet and retreated to the bathroom to clean himself up and get dressed.  Less than two minutes passed before he was back in the main room, kneeling a few feet away from Baekhyun.  He wanted more than anything to be the one to  _help out_  but he didn’t want Sarang to know about that part of their relationship if he didn’t already. 

Instead, he was forced to watch Sarang put his hands on Baekhyun’s body and with a few well-placed touches, bring him over the edge.  It wasn’t until after that Chanyeol realised he’d thoughtfully pulled Baekhyun’s jeans down and out of the way so that the only thing that was stained was his boxers.  When Sarang released him, he fell panting to his hands and knees, jeans still halfway down his thighs with a spreading stain on the front of his underwear. 

“Was that satisfying, Starling?” Sarang asked after Baekhyun had collected himself.  Instead of replying directly, he looked at Chanyeol.

“It was.  I have a new and profound respect for what you went through last time.”  His voice was ragged, as if he’d been screaming.  He might have been, Chanyeol realised, for all that he’d taken notice of the singer.  He was ashamed that it hadn’t taken him that long at all to forget about him being in the room.  Sarang’s games tended to have that effect.


	14. Kiss Him Senseless

**Chapter Thirteen**

Weeks passed, and Baekhyun’s twenty-third birthday came and went with due celebration.  Suho’s was approaching, and Chanyeol was at the club again, explaining to Sarang why he couldn’t make the appointment for that day. 

True to his word, Sarang had stopped demanding Chanyeol be his sub, and had begun training him in the arts of dominance.  And there was, he realised, an art to it.  One had to maintain absolute control and awareness at all times.  He had to be aware of the sub’s pleasure, pain, tolerance, and limits, and listen for the safe-words just in case things were too much.  It reminded him that he’d never used the safe-words, but Sarang admitted that he’d never pushed harder than he thought Chanyeol could bear. 

“Starling has stopped me a few times,” he admitted when pressed.  “Part of the relationship between a dom and a sub is building the trust up in the sub that you, as the dom, will respect their use of the safe-words when used.  It’s no good to push a new sub so far that they feel compelled to use the words before you’ve built up the trust between you.  If you had continued as mine, we would soon have graduated to me pushing your limits.”

“I’m not sure if that would have been okay.  I liked being a sub,” Chanyeol confided in return.  “But I love being a dom.” 

He did.  The power, the control.  The knowledge that  _he_  was the one taking these people apart with a mix of pleasure and pain so keen that it would split hairs.  The fantastic daydreams of a day when it might be Baekhyun beneath his hand, begging for his permission. 

Angelique poured another drink for them both – soda this time, as neither wanted their senses blunted – and retreated to the far end of the bar to leave them to their private conversation.

“You’ll have to give me some kind of an explanation about why you can’t make the twenty-second, or the twenty-third,” Sarang said.  Chanyeol fidgeted. 

“It’s actually for a birthday party,” he said.  “There is absolutely no way on Earth – short of death or dismemberment – that I can miss it.  It’s just too important to – me.”  He nearly said “the company and the fans” but caught himself just in time.  Supposedly, Sarang still had no idea who he truly was and what he did when he wasn’t a sub or dom-in-training.  Outside of the club, they maintained their personal lives; inside it, obscurity and privacy reigned supreme.  One woman swaggered past wearing a beautifully painted mask with wispy peacock feathers, and not much else, lending credence to his private thoughts.  “I’m sure you know Starling won’t be coming that day either.”

They’d avoided a repeat of the double-date, as Chanyeol referred to those two nights when they’d both appeared at the club as Sarang’s subs.  To avoid suspicion inside Exo, they staggered the nights when they went to the club at all, but Baekhyun still had no idea that Chanyeol wasn’t Sarang’s sub, or that Chanyeol was basically plotting to steal him away from Sarang altogether, with Sarang’s full cooperation and support. 

“Speaking of birthdays, wasn’t Starling’s just a few weeks ago?”

Chanyeol laughed.  “Yes.  He hated it, did he tell you?  They actually put twenty three little candles on his cake.  Su-uh-someone joked that we were going to have to call the fire department to put it out.” 

“He told me it ended with him as the butt of many jokes,” Sarang said.  “I suppose that if you have another such birthday party to attend, I cannot demand your presence here.  Although I admit, it makes my palm itch to allow you this disobedience.”

Chanyeol glanced at his hands, and then up into his face.  “Ah?”

Fingers curled through his hair.  “I still think of you as my sub, Liebe,” Sarang murmured into his ear, and then excused himself.  Chanyeol closed his eyes and tried to collect himself.  It was the first time Sarang had touched him since he’d ‘graduated’ and because Baekhyun was being skittish as a newborn colt, it was the first time he’d been touched intimately in weeks.  With Sarang gone, Chanyeol pushed the glass of soda back at Angelique.

“Just one shot,” he begged.  “I have to go home to a cold bed and a serious case of blue-balls because of Starling, and I think I’m going to need it.”

Angelique obliged, leaning across the counter to talk to him.  “What’s he done this time?”

“We talked about… well, this is going to sound ridiculous and childish.  But we talked about becoming lovers.  Boyfriends.  Anything.  Outside of the club.  But that was weeks ago, and he keeps putting me off.  ‘Can’t talk about it here, the others will catch us.  I still don’t know what we should do, don’t you think it might be awkward?’  It’s gotten to the point where I can’t even be in the same room with him anymore without wanting to either strangle him or kiss him senseless.”

Angelique patted his arm.  “Honey, if you want my advice, kiss him senseless.  Less legal trouble that way.”

Chanyeol mock-glared at her.  “You’re a lot of help.”

She just laughed. 

 

Two days later found them alone in the dorm.  The other four had gone to meet Exo-M at the airport and incite riots among the milling herds of girls.  Baekhyun begged off pleading a headache, and Chanyeol got out of it at the same time by virtue of sleeping right through his alarm.  The atmosphere in the house was tense and silent and awkward, and Baekhyun sat at the kitchen table with his head in his hands, lines at the corners of his eyes attesting to the veracity of his excuse.  Chanyeol did his best to be quiet and not bother him, but the tension between them could have been cut with a knife. 

“Have you taken anything for it?” he asked finally, unable to keep silent any longer.  Baekhyun shook his head.

“I think we’re out.”  He flinched as the sound of his own voice caused him pain.  Chanyeol debated for all of about three seconds, then retreated from the room and raided their supply of petty cash for household needs that weren’t met by the manager. 

“I’ll be back,” he called, and left before Baekhyun could reply.  The convenience store lady was helpful and flirtatious.

“I heard the other half of your group will be in Korea for several weeks for your promotions.” 

“Yes,” he said, confirming the rumours.  He knew the lady’s daughter, who was an admitted fan and stared worshipfully whenever any of them frequented the store.  He took the pain killers and paid, adding a note on a sheet of paper for the daughter about studying hard for her upcoming exams. 

“You boys are so nice,” the lady said, accepting the note with a warm smile.  “I’m sure that without you, this store wouldn’t be doing half so well as it is.”

“We’ll keep you in business as long as we’re here,” Chanyeol said.  “We’d all starve if you didn’t keep it open all night.” 

“This is for Baekhyun-ssi?”  Chanyeol nodded.  “I hope he gets well soon,” she said.

“I’ll pass it along.”  He returned to the dorm at a jog.  Baekhyun was still at the table, but had shifted so that his head was cradled in folded arms.  “The lady at the store says feel better soon,” he announced, and plopped the bottle down on the table beside a glass of water.  Baekhyun looked up slowly, focused on the pills, and then flashed Chanyeol a grateful smile.  It wasn’t quite as nice as the smiles he’d received after their fight, but the awkwardness between them was dispelled for a while, which was nice enough. 

After a time, Baekhyun joined Chanyeol on the couch, where he was reclined watching a marathon of Hello Baby reruns.  “Thank you, Chanyeol,” he said quietly.

“How’s your headache?”

“Bearable.” 

They sat in tense silence for a while.  Chanyeol lost the thread of the plot, hyper-aware of the body sitting less than two feet away from him. 

“Baek-”

“Chan-”

They started at the same time and broke off in unison, flicking each other embarrassed looks.  “You first,” Chanyeol offered.  Baekhyun sighed.

“I’m sorry.”

“What?”

“For always being the one to ruin things between us.” 

Chanyeol was taken aback.  “It’s not ruined.  Why would you say that?”

“It’s not like it used to be.”  He focused on the wall, not looking in Chanyeol’s direction.  “Sometimes I wish you hadn’t followed me to the club.  Everything was perfect before you knew.”

Chanyeol felt differently; at the club he’d found friendships and an escape, as well as something he hadn’t known was lacking in his life.  It was an outlet for the stress of his work, as well, and it had led to a deeper understanding of Baekhyun, and a strengthening of their friendship – at least, from his point of view.  It caused a physical pain in his chest to discover that Baekhyun felt differently. 

The silence stretched.  Chanyeol broke it at last.  “I’m sorry,” he offered quietly, and rose, fleeing to their bedroom.  He locked the door behind him, and crawled into bed, pulling the covers over his head in a childish hope that if he could just block out the world, the world would forget about him in turn. 

It didn’t take long for Baekhyun to follow him and discover he’d been locked out.  Pounding on the door, he yelled through it.  “Chanyeol, come back out!  I’m sorry I said that, I didn’t mean it how it sounded.” 

Chanyeol flinched, and turned his back to the door.   _You meant it exactly how it sounded,_  he thought petulantly, and refused to answer.  Everything was not perfect before.  Hindsight, as they said, was twenty-twenty, and he could see now, looking back, just how unhappy and bleak his life had become before he followed Baekhyun to the club.  That his visits there also resulted in the revelation of his feelings for the shorter singer – feelings he clearly didn’t return, but Chanyeol flinched away from that revelation as well – well, he felt whole for the first time.  He’d found something in that club he needed, and he hated that it was the cause of all their problems.  It created a painful dichotomy, splitting his life right down the middle. 

Baekhyun was quiet for so long that Chanyeol thought maybe he’d retreated.  The need to get out of the dorm was pressing on him, and he thought about going up to the roof.  It was warm enough now that it wouldn’t even be unpleasant.  He unlocked the door and opened it, then nearly let out an unmanly shriek as it revealed Baekhyun kneeling in the hallway, a butter knife in his hand as he prepared to pick the lock. 

“Oh, good,” Baekhyun said, as if Chanyeol had come out to continue their discussion.  Since the only discussion Chanyeol wanted to have included their relationship status or lack thereof, something Baekhyun had already declared off limits for conversation, he simply pushed past silently and headed for the front door.  “Wait, where are you going?”

“Out,” Chanyeol said stiffly. 

Baekhyun chased after him, and caught up, pushing him into the wall.  Taken off guard, the shorter man overwhelmed him.  His body remembered how long it had been since he’d had this with Sarang, and what being held down usually lead to, and  _that_  caused an uncomfortable reaction.  “You’re not going anywhere until we get this cleared up,” Baekhyun threatened. 

“Yes, sir,” Chanyeol bit off mockingly.  Anger darkened Baekhyun’s face. 

“Don’t play games with me right now.”

“Then let me go.  I don’t want to play games with you.  You said,” he cut himself off, and focused on a discoloured spot on the wall past Baekhyun’s shoulder to keep his thoughts from wandering off on their own. 

Baekhyun shoved him, pressing him harder into the wall.  The bruises on his back were fading, but again – his body remembered.  “I said what?  Don’t be like this, Chanyeol.”

“You said you’d have to think about it!”

Baekhyun’s face was carefully blank.  Comprehension dawned slowly. 

“It’s been weeks.  Did you change your mind about how much you’d  _like it?_   I don’t like being strung along like some lovesick girl.  Make up your damn mind.  You’re not willing to be anything more than a friend to me but you don’t like me going to the club, either, and –”

“Is this about your  _needs?_   I’m not fucking you, so you’re just –”

“Fuck  _you,_ ” Chanyeol burst out, and shoved him back.  Baekhyun hissed as his shoulders hit the far wall, and Chanyeol belatedly realised that just because  _he’d_  stopped subbing, it didn’t mean Baekhyun had as well.  “I want it with you because I want  _you_  and you  _said_  you might like it but you haven’t even given me a  _chance_  because you’re  _afraid._   I never pegged you for a coward, Baekhyunnie, especially since you had the balls to find that club in the first place.”

“I am not a  _coward,_ ” Baekhyun snarled, eyes flashing. 

“Prove it.”

Baekhyun lunged.  Trapped in Chanyeol’s arms, he didn’t go far – but then, he didn’t have to.  Their lips met in a fierce kiss that sent flame of desire straight through Chanyeol, inflaming his already-interested body.  Almost immediately, the fight went out of both of them.  Baekhyun relaxed against Chanyeol’s chest, standing on his tip-toes with one hand curled in his hair to bring his mouth down within reach.  Chanyeol slipped his other hand around Baekhyun’s hips and drew him closer.  They both gasped into the kiss as contact was made between their bodies, and Chanyeol could feel that Baekhyun was just as aroused as he was by it.  The kiss softened and Chanyeol flicked his tongue out hesitantly.  Just as uncertain, Baekhyun’s lips parted and invited him in.  The kiss deepened.  It was the sweetest thing he’d ever tasted, and for a moment Chanyeol imagined that if heaven consisted of kissing Baekhyun for eternity, he could die happily. 

Baekhyun moaned softly into his mouth as their tongues touched and explored, his hips pushing gently against Chanyeol.  It was all he could do to keep control of himself enough to not push Baekhyun down onto the rug lining the hallway and finish the dance.  His hand stroked up Baekhyun’s spine instead, and he was rewarded with a sharp intake of breath from the shorter man.  It was echoed a moment later, but that didn’t penetrate the fog of desire descending upon him.  It wasn’t until the other voice put words to it that either of them even noticed.

“Oh.  My.   _God._   Really?” 

Suho’s voice was scandalised.  Chanyeol and Baekhyun broke apart guiltily, and turned to find all of Exo crowded into the small sitting room.   _All_  of Exo.  Kris was frowning in disappointment, Tao looked carefully blank, Xiumin, Kyungsoo and Chen were shocked… Luhan, Sehun, and Kai were stifling laughter.  Baekhyun’s face turned scarlet.  With one hand blocking their view of him, or his view of them, he excused himself quietly and fled.

Not, Chanyeol noticed, to their bedroom.  To the bathroom.  Unable to keep the shit-eating grin off his face, he strode confidently through the throng and out the still-open door, intent on his original destination for an entirely different reason. 

 

Baekhyun found him on the roof some time later.  “I’m sorry,” he said, and meant it.  Chanyeol smiled at him.

“I’m not.”

Baekhyun thwacked him on the arm.  “Not about the kiss.  About the fight.”  He lapsed into a thoughtful silence, settling himself beside Chanyeol and looked out over the city.  The sun was dipping low on the horizon, setting some of the buildings on fire with glowing golden light.  “About the kiss,” he began softly, then paused.  Chanyeol waited silently, breath catching in his throat.  “If we do it, it needs to be separate.”

That goaded him into speaking.  “Separate?”

“Us and Exo from the club.  I’m not volunteering as your sub,” Baekhyun added, voice hard. 

“I wasn’t asking you to.”

Baekhyun relaxed, then leaned against Chanyeol very deliberately.  “Alright then.” 

Chanyeol slipped an arm around him.  “Alright.”


	15. The Beginning Of The End (Baekhyun Interlude)

**Chapter Fourteen – Baekhyun Interlude**

He couldn’t get the kiss out of his mind.  He’d been kissed before, but never like that.  That kiss had sent sparks through his entire body, lighting him up like a Christmas tree within just a few tender moments.  And when Chanyeol pinned him to the wall… Even as he’d fled the scrutiny of the rest of the group he couldn’t get his body to calm down.  Not even the shock of discovery had taken care of it, which is how he found himself in the bathroom, taking care of himself.  He hadn’t had to jerk off in months, and now within weeks he’d been forced to get himself off multiple times, all because of Chanyeol.  The first time because the memory of watching Sarang take him apart piece by piece while he hung helpless was a powerful image.  He’d nearly come in his pants just watching it, and every time his mind revisited the night he and Chanyeol had willingly returned to the club together he ended up with a hard-on he couldn’t just think down. 

Part of him knew Chanyeol was still visiting the club; they’d avoided going together to avoid speculation and curiousity, and Sarang had made comments.  As he brought himself to an unsatisfying climax, he wondered what it might have been like if Chanyeol had been allowed the time to finish him off in the hallway.  His blood surged through him, but there was no way he could get it up again so quickly. 

 

Later that night, Chanyeol was lying in bed reading when Baekhyun came to the room.  He changed in silence, and then turned around to see Chanyeol laying the book aside. 

“Come here, please?”

If it had been a demand, Baekhyun would have packed up his bedding and gone to sleep in another room as Chanyeol had done once.  The naked uncertainty in Chanyeol’s eyes and the faintly pleading tone to his voice broke down Baekhyun’s resistance, however, and when Chanyeol shifted over and lifted his blankets, Baekhyun went to him.

“I have no experience in something like this,” he said, swallowing past the nervous lump in his throat to get the words out. 

“I could tell,” Chanyeol said dryly.  “Have you ever been kissed before?”

His voice was breathy.  “No.”

Then Chanyeol was kissing him again, and he reacted just as violently as he had before, every cell in his body focused on the chaste contact between their mouths.  When Chanyeol opened his mouth to deepen the kiss, Baekhyun followed his lead.  Stars burst behind his eyes when their tongues touched, and molten lava replaced the blood in his veins, all of it shooting towards his groin.  His loose cotton pyjama pants did nothing to conceal his growing erection, but he couldn’t even concentrate on it with Chanyeol kissing the breath right out of his body.  Somehow he found himself on his back, with Chanyeol above him.  Their hips met and suddenly it was like Baekhyun had never been touched in his life; his reaction was extreme and immediate. 

If he’d had any blood in his brain left for thinking, he would have been embarrassed at the way he submitted limply after demanding that he would not be a sub in this newborn relationship.  As it was, the only thing in his mind was  _More._

Chanyeol rocked against him and Baekhyun noted distantly that he was just as hard.  It was thrilling, knowing that he was the direct cause of it, and he moaned helplessly.  The first and only bad moment was when Chanyeol pinned his wrists above his head.  He protested weakly, but Chanyeol restrained him with one hand while the other snaked between them.  It cut off his denial mid-sentence.

“Trust me,” Chanyeol whispered.  “You’re not a sub.” 

“Oh god,” Baekhyun whimpered in reply.  His hips jerked up into Chanyeol’s hand as the rapper worked him excellently towards orgasm.  For a moment he held himself back, waiting for the word that it was permitted, and then remembered that he wasn’t a sub right now.   Letting go was glorious and overwhelming.  When he’d caught his breath back, he smiled up at Chanyeol, who looked lazy and turned-on.  “Can I blow you?”

Chanyeol choked, the serene expression faltering.  “Oh, if you want.”

“I want,” Baekhyun purred.  He pushed Chanyeol’s shirt up and kissed his way down his chest.  Basing his actions on Chanyeol’s reactions, he was pleased when Chanyeol was reduced to gasping before Baekhyun even got past the waistband of his pyjama pants.  When he moved them down and was faced with Chanyeol’s erection, he faltered for a moment before his natural sense of playfulness got the better of him.  He took his time exploring the texture of the skin and the soft dark curls at its base, taking a perverse delight in the breathless gasps and whimpers Chanyeol released.  When he finally put his mouth on it, his nose wrinkled at the salty taste of sweat and pre-come, but the helpless moan that wrenched its way out of Chanyeol was worth it. 

“Oh, that feels good,” Chanyeol breathed.  Baekhyun flashed him a quick grin and turned his whole attention to the task at hand.  It was a surprisingly short amount of time before Chanyeol was pulling him back.  He was inhaling to ask why when he found out as Chanyeol’s climax shook him.  Baekhyun found his attention arrested by the expression of pure bliss on Chanyeol’s face as he came, and appreciated not being forced to pick between spitting and swallowing his first time.  Chanyeol had swallowed the first time he’d done it to Baekhyun, but Chanyeol was a braver person than him.  He’d gone to the club the first time because he was worried about Baekhyun, with no idea what he was about to get involved with.  Compared to that, the spit-or-swallow question was mild, but he was grateful to have had it taken out of his hands.  Still, he was curious.  The come was puddling on Chanyeol’s stomach, and he ran his fingers through it before bringing them to his mouth to taste it. 

Chanyeol’s breath hitched.  “Jesus,” he breathed.  “You’re something else.”

“You’re filthy.  Want a tissue?”

“Mmh.  Think I’m ready for a nap.”

“How about a shower?”

“Too much effort.”

“How about a shower with me?”  

Chanyeol gasped again, his expression a comical mix between scandalised and interested.  “If we can get away with it,” he breathed.  They collected fresh pyjamas and their towels, and Baekhyun stood watch in the hallway while Chanyeol made his way to the bathroom.  When Chanyeol was safely inside, Baekhyun eased his way down the hall and joined him there.   Even the gentle pressure of the water streaming from the shower-head was almost enough to knock them both over; neither of them had the energy for anything more strenuous, but there was something incredibly intimate about washing each other’s hair and backs.  When they were done, Chanyeol helped him dry off, and then accepted his help in return, and then poked his head out the door to check and make sure the hall was clear.  He made his way back to his room and saw Kai stepping into the room he shared with Kyungsoo.  The angle Baekhyun was standing at inside the bathroom ensured he could see out, but no one who wasn’t looking directly in would see him.  He saw Chanyeol wave silently to Kai, and disappear into their shared room, then counted to thirty before following him. 

Kai was coming back out of his room, and paused.  “You showered?  But I thought Chan-” Comprehension dawned, and he cut himself off with an exaggerated wink and a leer in Baekhyun’s direction.  Baekhyun rolled his eyes and retreated to his room before Kai could make any comments.  Chanyeol was back in his bed, already off to one side with the blanket turned down.

“Join me again?” he invited.  “Just to sleep this time,” he added. 

Baekhyun locked the door behind him and crawled in beside Chanyeol.  “I think I could get to like this boyfriend thing,” he commented quietly.  “And don’t be surprised if everyone knows tomorrow.  Kai saw me.”

“Everyone would have known sooner or later anyway.  I’m not ashamed of you.”

When he made statements like that in such a matter-of-fact tone, it sent Baekhyun’s heart fluttering like a middle-school girl’s.  “Well, just a warning.  It’s going to be sooner.”

“That’s fine.”  Chanyeol cuddled up to him, and within moments was asleep.  Baekhyun lay in the dark, silent room, listening to him breathe for a long time before sleep claimed him as well. 

 

Several more blissful weeks passed, and Baekhyun received a call from Sarang. 

“I was just wondering when you were next planning to come in,” the dom said conversationally.  “I know this isn’t your usual style, but I’m training someone new, and I was wondering if you’d agree to let him practice on you.”

Baekhyun blinked at the phone in silence.  His new relationship with Chanyeol satisfied him in ways he’d never even imagined before; he hadn’t felt the need to go to the club in weeks.  “As a favour to you?”

“In total anonymity.”

It felt like cheating, and it hurt.  Chanyeol had been his friend for longer than he’d been going to the club, but Sarang had been his almost-lover for much longer than he’d been Chanyeol’s boyfriend-lover.  They’d agreed to keep the two lives separate.  This had no bearing on his relationship with Chanyeol.  “When?”

“Next Saturday.”

“I’ll be there.”

He hung up the phone without waiting for anything else, and dropped it.  Stepping back inside the dorm, he found Chanyeol on the couch with lyrics in his hand, practicing for the new rap he had to perform. 

Without stopping to say anything, he went over and pushed the paper out of Chanyeol’s hand, climbing into his lap and kissing him there on the couch.  The others knew; let them watch.  He needed to reassure Chanyeol and himself that it meant nothing, even if he couldn’t say it.  Chanyeol didn’t argue with him, and if he was a little surprised by the vehemence of Baekhyun’s kiss, he didn’t let it show.  Chanyeol’s facile rapper’s tongue swirled around his, inducing shivers of delight.  In one last corner of his mind, he remembered that they were on the couch in a relatively public dorm, and he twined his arms around Chanyeol’s neck to keep them from slipping lower on his body as he wanted to. 

Saturday dawned bright, and Baekhyun spent the entire day under a cloud of gloom that not even Chanyeol could draw him out of.  Feeling so guilty about it all day made him question the wisdom of actually going through with it.  But he’d given his word to Sarang, and the dom had been there for him through everything for years.  Chanyeol was out when he began to get ready and leave, and he hated himself even more for not being able to even reassure the rapper that he wasn’t returning to the club because he was unhappy or stressed out.  Actually, the idea of returning had stressed him out more than the idea of performances. 

“I’m going out with some friends,” Baekhyun told Suho.  “I’ll be back late.”

“No more errands?”  Suho thought he was being subtle, but he really wasn’t helping.

“No, not errands.”  He took a deep breath.  “Let Chanyeol know when he comes back in, please?”

“Sure.”  Suho’s attention was retaken by the television.  Baekhyun steeled his resolve and stepped out the door.

Sarang met him at the front of the club.  “Your usual outfit is waiting on the bed.  The new dom isn’t here yet; I promised anonymity, and you’ll both have it.  The only reason I requested you here today is because of your gifts, and I apologise for the necessity.”  Sarang was oddly formal, but his manner was relieving in a way.  Baekhyun chose to ignore the way Sarang referred to his body’s ability to transform pain into pleasure; Sarang didn’t have it, and didn’t understand it, although he wasn’t above taking ruthless advantage of it.  Stepping into ‘his’ room helped him get the mindset right.  He left his concerns at the door, and by the time he’d stripped naked and began drawing on the tiny briefs the only thoughts in his head were of submission.  Sarang entered before he was done dressing, and offered a pair of headphones.

“We’re also experimenting with sense-deprivation tonight.  Have you ever undergone it?”

Baekhyun fitted the headphones over his ears, and found the words muffled.  He shook his head in response, and watched as Sarang plugged the headphones into a black piece of fabric.  Music swelled in his ears, loud enough that he couldn’t hear anything over the noise of it.  He blinked in surprise, and Sarang unplugged the headphones while Baekhyun shifted the headphones away.

“Another of my newest inventions.  There’s actually an iPod sewn into the fabric.  This goes over your head so that the wires don’t become tangled during a scene.  It also cuts off all sight; are you claustrophobic?”

Baekhyun shook his head again. 

“One last thing,” Sarang said.  “I’m sure you’re used to it, but it’s been a while.  We’ll be on the floor tonight.”

A dark, heady desire flushed through him.  On display for all to see, on the club’s busiest night – but he would neither see nor hear any of them.  He tried to imagine being tied down and helpless and utterly cut off from the visual and audio cues he used to gauge what would happen; his knees felt weak and his legs nearly dropped from under him.  He clutched at the bedpost for support while Sarang replaced the headphones and hood.  The music washed over him, and within the hood he couldn’t even see the end of his nose.  No light peeked in from the edges, as sometimes happened with blindfolds.  The bottom of the hood was cinched lightly around the neck while Sarang silently showed him how to unfasten it if necessary.  It was one of the things he liked about this club; privacy and safety were the top two concerns, above and beyond even pleasure.  Some of the clubs he’d visited before stumbling on Club SiyahSarang were… unpleasant memories. 

With the hood in place and the music and headphones combining to drown out outside noise, he felt like he was walking through a dream.  Sarang lead him out of the private room up onto the floor, to the main center stage.  Aides helped wrap his wrists and ankles in the leather D-ring straps, and then someone was pushing him down onto a padded table.  He drifted, utterly at peace as his limbs were immobilised.   The first blow was hesitant, and it was unfamiliar enough that it brought him back to his position in the club.  That definitely wasn’t Sarang, but it felt good nonetheless.  Within the obscuring confines of the hood, he smiled to himself at the knowledge that he was helping some new dom learn how to handle someone like him.  It felt like doing a good deed.  His sense of betrayal faded further from his mind. 

There was a brief pause and then Sarang hit him with the paddle.  His breath hitched silently.  Another pause, and then the newbie struck, more confidently.  He may have cried out; he couldn’t hear himself.  The only thing that existed was the pleasure coursing through him, and the uneven, slightly uncertain blows that precipitated it.  Hands came down on his body, stroking and pushing and tickling.  He arched but couldn’t escape them.  He had no way of knowing who was standing over him, who was touching him, or where they were.  What they were planning. 

The safety scissors made him jump, they were so cold against his heated skin as someone cut away the thin fabric that covered him.  A hand rested on the small of his back, and then something pressed at his entrance.  Instead of being shoved all the way in, they left it hanging by the head.  He could imagine how obscene it looked, and was grateful all over again for the hood that kept both his identity and the embarrassing expressions on his face hidden from view. 

Another long pause, and then someone hit the dildo with a paddle, pounding it into his body like hammering a nail.  When it was flush with his skin the blows continued, wiggling the toy and forcing his muscles to contract around it.  Bliss coloured the darkness red and his nails dug into his palms.  He might have been screaming.

It just felt so  _good._  

More hands came down on his body as the rain of paddling continued.  Nails scratched lightly at his sides, offering a peaceful counterpart to the beating he was taking.  He wouldn’t be able to sit comfortably for days, but it was  _so worth it._  

The words  _Can I come?  Can I please?  Please can I come?_  were a litany in his mind, but whether he spoke them or not, he didn’t even know.  The paddling stopped, and his hands were unhooked.  Someone drew his weight up and then one touch to his hardness was all it took before he couldn’t even wait for permission; his orgasm flooded him, bending him nearly in half with the force of it.  At some point, the headphones had come loose from his head, and he could hear things again. 

The first thing he heard was a very familiar voice. 

A very unwelcome voice. 

“That sounds like,” he was saying, but then Sarang cut him off.

“No names.  That’s the deal, remember?”

“But…”

His hands were free.  He tore the hood off, unable to believe what he was hearing.  Chanyeol stood in front of him, and expression of shocked blankness on his face.  Baekhyun didn’t stop to think about it.  All he could hear was Chanyeol’s voice, see Chanyeol staring at him.  Chanyeol promising that he wouldn’t have to be a sub for him.  That it would be completely separate.  Rage dispelled the pleasant aftershocks, and before either of them could move to explain, he bent down and pulled the cuffs off his ankles. 

“Baek- Star- Wait, please,” Chanyeol said, lunging across the table at him.  Baekhyun shook off his hand, furious. 

“You  _promised,_ ” he snarled, and bolted back to the room.  Running with the toy was uncomfortable now; he pulled it out and flung it at the far wall as soon as he reached the private room, pulling his clothes on so fast his jeans were backwards at first.  When he was done, he looked around for both Chanyeol and Sarang, but couldn’t find either of them.  He left without a word to anyone. 

Halfway home, the anger burned off and left a deep sense of betrayal behind.  Chanyeol  _had_  promised.  Completely separate.  This was worse than the time he realised Chanyeol had been going behind his back to the club.  They’d fought for months over that.  This was  _worse._

They were definitely breaking up.  He couldn’t handle lies on top of everything else.  He wouldn’t let it affect Exo by force of will if that’s what it took, but his relationship was  _over._   Chanyeol would be lucky if they could even be friends after this. 

Details nagged at his brain, but he couldn’t push the memory of Chanyeol standing there in that club away long enough to focus on them. 

Then the pain set in.  He couldn’t go back to his room; that would be the first place Chanyeol would look for him, and he was in no mood to have the fight tonight.  When he reached the dorm, he went to Exo-M’s rooms.  Luhan let him in without a word, and he knocked on Kris and Chen’s room.  Tao answered, taking him aback momentarily. 

“Can I come in for a little bit?” Baekhyun asked, and Tao stepped aside.  Kris took one look at his face, and went for tea. 

“Are you okay?” asked Tao, his voice gentle.  Kris came back with a mug of steaming tea, and a worried expression, and Baekhyun broke apart.

The whole story flooded out of him.  The knowledge from when he was younger that he enjoyed things that caused others pain.  Looking on the internet for answers, discovering the existence of clubs.  Finding one.  Joining Exo, but still going to the clubs.  Finding Sarang.  Chanyeol’s involvement.  Tao and Kris sat in stunned silence as the words tumbled over themselves in his haste to get them out of his head.  The agreement, the relationship. 

Tonight.

Someone knocked on the front door, frantic.  Baekhyun retreated slightly.  “I’m not here,” he said.  Tao and Kris went into the living room to see who it was.  Luhan pulled the door open to reveal a frantic-looking Chanyeol. 

“Is Baekhyun in here?”

Kris answered before anyone else. “No.  We haven’t seen him.  Is something wrong?”

Watching hidden from the doorway of Kris’s room, Baekhyun sagged in relief.  He could see the look Luhan was giving the leader, confused but not willing to argue.  He could see the heartbroken expression on Chanyeol’s face as he slumped, defeated. 

“No one’s seen him.”  He sighed and backed away from the door, both hands twisting in his hair. “Sorry for bothering you,” he flung back over his shoulder, and disappeared down the hall.  Kris pushed the door shut and was immediately accosted by Luhan.

“He’s in your room,” Luhan said.  “Why are you lying to Chanyeol?”

“They’re having a fight.  Baekhyun didn’t want him to know he was here.”

Unhappy understanding lit Luhan’s expression.  “Sorry, Baekhyun,” he called quietly.  “I didn’t know.  I won’t tell him you’re here.”

Baekhyun nodded once, and retreated back into the room.  Kris and Tao returned.  “I’m sorry for being so much trouble.  But can I stay here tonight?  I just need some time before I face him again.”

Kris put one hand on his shoulder.  “Stay as long as you need.”  He shared an inscrutable look with Tao, who nodded.  “You can use Tao’s bed.”  They bustled around the room, getting him some pyjamas to borrow, pointing out Tao’s bed, getting him settled in it. 

Tao approached quietly.  “Baekhyun, we understand more than you realise.  Stay as long as you like, seriously.  And know that we won’t tell anyone else what you’ve shared tonight.”

Baekhyun felt like crying.  “Thank you both,” he said softly.  Tao pushed a hand through his hair. 

“Get some sleep.”

Baekhyun lay down and tried to relax.  Kris and Tao’s unexpected support was extremely welcome.  When the lights went out, he heard them readying themselves for bed.  Kris’s voice came out of the darkness, gentle. Meant for Tao’s ears.  Baekhyun flushed to overhear them.

“You did good, Zitao.”  He murmured something in Chinese, but Tao reminded him that he needed to practice his Korean.  “I meant it,” Kris said in Korean.  “You said the right thing.  I’m sure Baekhyun will tell you, too.  It was what he needed to hear.”

“Thank you, Duizhang.”

“Shh.  Sleep.”  And then he overheard a noise that sounded suspiciously like a kiss.  All of a sudden it occurred to him to wonder where Tao was sleeping, if he was in Tao’s bed. 

 

Baekhyun woke the next morning to someone pounding on the door.  “Kris! Kris, wake up!  We have a situation, all hands on deck!”  He nearly rolled over and ignored it, but despite the playful words, he recognised the genuine distress in Luhan’s normally light-hearted voice. 

  He heard Tao and Kris moving around, and kept his head turned away to give them some privacy before he rolled up and out of bed himself.  When they reached the sitting room, he realised all of Exo was gathered there.  His band-mates in Exo-K looked at him with a mixture of relief and panic. 

Suho stepped forward to be the spokesman for them.  “Thank god you’re here, Baekhyun.  We were worried about you.  Have you seen Chanyeol?”  An icy finger of dread curled in his chest at the words.

Kris stepped forward as the spokesman for M.  “Not since last night.  Why?”

“He’s not here.  His bed hasn’t been slept in at all.  Neither was Baekhyun’s, but he’s here.  Please say… I mean, tell me… is Chanyeol here, too?”

Exo-M and Baekhyun exchanged glances.  In unison, they shook their heads.  Baekhyun staggered back and fell on the couch.  Chanyeol had come to the room last night looking for him.  Kris and Tao lied to him, said he wasn’t there.

Now Chanyeol was missing.

Dread turned into fear. 

“Check your phones.  Maybe he’s called or texted someone?  Call his friends, he said he was going out with them last night.”  Suho took command as if he’d been born to handle such emergencies.  The words washed over Baekhyun in a disorganized roar.  Tao’s quiet voice penetrated the fog suddenly, even though he wasn’t talking to Baekhyun.

“Duizhang,” he said softly.  It drew Baekhyun’s attention, and he saw Tao touching Kris’s arm before they both looked at him. 

“Talk to him,” Kris said, just as quietly.  Tao approached Baekhyun and sat next to him on the couch. 

“Baekhyun, do you know where he might have gone?”

Baekhyun shook his head silently. 

“Do you know where he might have gone?”

Another headshake. 

“Call the man,” Tao said suddenly.  “What did you say he was called?”

“…Sarang?” 

Tao nodded.  “Him.  He saw Chanyeol last night, too, didn’t he?”

Baekhyun’s expression twisted.  “He helped.  He lied to me as well.  I don’t want to call him.”

“Then give me your phone and I’ll call him.  Chanyeol might have gone back to him.  You said he’s gone there before when you fought; what might have been different about last night?”

Baekhyun wordlessly found his phone and located Sarang’s number before handing the phone to Tao.  Tao retreated a few steps to talk to him.  Baekhyun could only hear one side of the conversation, but it was enough.

“Is this Sarang?  No, I didn’t steal his phone.  He’s lending it to me because we’re missing someone.  Did Chanyeol go to your cl… establishment last night?”  He paused while Sarang spoke.  “So he just left?  No, he didn’t come home last night.  We were just wondering.  Thank you for your help.”  Tao returned the phone, and Baekhyun looked up at him as fury and worry battled for control of his body.  “Nothing,” Tao said.  “He went back to ask if you’d gone back, but then left again.”

“So he could be anywhere.” 

“Just about.”

Kris interrupted.  “He’s on the phone!  Shut up!  Chanyeol!”  He was speaking into his phone, holding up a hand for general silence.  “Where are you?”  Kris’s face turned white.  Despite his anger over the previous night’s activity, he couldn’t help freaking out.  “What hospital?”  All of Exo burst into chatter at the question.  He held up his hand for silence again, and it subsided.  “No, just stay there.  What hospital?  Chanyeol, stay there.  Baekhyun’s here.”

“I don’t want to talk to him,” Baekhyun said, suddenly afraid that he was going to hand the phone over.  Kris didn’t even appear to have heard him. 

“Yes, he’s safe.  We’ll be there in a few minutes, just stay where you are.”  He hung up and looked at Tao, who rose.  “We’re going to get him.”

“What about a hospital?”

“Is he hurt?  What happened?”

“Why is he in the hospital?”

Suho shushed them all.  “Was he hurt?”

Kris shook his head.  “I don’t think so.  Said he was looking for Baekhyun.”

Luhan, who knew, turned an accusing look on all three of them.  The rest of the group was baffled. 

“He came here last night looking for him, too, but we all said he hadn’t come back yet.  No one saw him last night.  No one even knew he was here.”

“Baekhyun said they had a fight,” Luhan offered.

Suho glared.  “I told you two not to let this interfere with Exo.”

Kris intervened before it escalated.  “It’s not interfering.  There’s nothing Exo related for two more weeks at least.  This is just wholly personal.  Come on, Tao.  We’ll go get him, so don’t worry.”

Baekhyun stood up before he realised consciously what he was going to do.  “I’m coming too,” he said.  “I think we should… talk.”   _Split up,_  he was thinking, and knew he’d rather do it in private or with Tao and Kris in attendance rather than all of them at once. 

“Come on, then.  We’ll be back.”  Kris retrieved his keys, and Tao and Baekhyun filed out after him.  It was raining when they pulled onto the street. 

Baekhyun let the silence last all of about five minutes.  “What hospital is he at?  Why?”

Kris glanced up at him in the rear-view mirror.  “__________ General,” he said.  “And he didn’t tell me why.  Just said he couldn’t find you.” 

Baekhyun sat back and frowned.  “I don’t get it.  That hospital’s nearly on the other side of town.”

“Duizhang?” Kris nodded at the quiet question, and Tao twisted in the seat to look him directly in the face.  “It’s obvious he spent most of last night looking for you,” he said.  “He’s worried about you.  Sarang is too.  He said Chanyeol stopped by again after you both left, asking if you’d come back.”

Baekhyun suddenly felt guilty for making them lie about his whereabouts when Chanyeol asked. 

It took them nearly half an hour to reach the hospital.  Chanyeol wasn’t out front.  Muttering furiously, Kris called him again.  “Where are you?” he barked, then looked up and dropped the phone.  The car lurched forward.  Baekhyun looked through the pounding rain and saw Chanyeol ahead, slumped against a building.  He didn’t even wait for the car to stop before he threw off his seat belt and jumped out of the car.  Behind him, Kris was yelling, but the only thing in his mind was that Chanyeol had been wandering around in the pouring rain looking for him. The look on his face went beyond exhausted.  For a moment, Baekhyun even forgot how angry he was with the rapper, especially when he saw the helplessly happy smile that stretched across Chanyeol’s face at the sight of him.   

“You idiot, it’s pouring with rain out here.  What do you think you’re doing?”

Chanyeol stepped forward and hugged him.  “I’m so glad you’re alright,” he said, completely ignoring him.  “I’m so glad.”  All of a sudden, he went limp in Baekhyun’s arms; if not for the fact that Baekhyun had automatically held him close at the contact, he would have fallen straight to the ground.  He staggered under the sudden dead-weight, and then Kris was there, and Tao.  Between the three of them, they managed to get him into the backseat of the car. 

Kris performed a quick check of his pulse and breathing, and deduced that Chanyeol was suffering from exhaustion.  “He must have been out all night looking for you,” he said, and somehow kept the accusation out of his voice.  Guilt stabbed at Baekhyun’s chest anyway.


	16. Fourteen Redux: In Which Chanyeol is Really Hot

Chapter Fourteen Redux – Chanyeol

Going to the club with the memory of Baekhyun’s kisses still sweet on his lips felt like a betrayal of their new relationship, but he’d made commitments there he couldn’t walk away from. Sarang had promised to train him as a dom – having announced that he had ‘graduated’ from subbing – and he’d made good on his word. It was a steady parade of people, both men and women, who were willing to let a complete newbie practice on them. 

Very few, Sarang informed him privately, had any complaints afterward. 

Being a dom had its own perks, he discovered, even if he wasn’t getting off on it anymore. He wondered what it might be like with Baekhyun instead of nameless, faceless subs that Sarang co-opted. But he found that he truly enjoyed playing them until they screamed. If each and every one of them wore Baekhyun’s face in his mind, well, that was his own private thoughts. 

 

Kissing Baekhyun was pleasant. Being able to kiss him was pleasant. He found himself in bed reading one night before Baekhyun even entered to prepare for sleep. When the singer came in, a wicked thought occurred to him, and he set the book down. “Come here, please?” he asked. Baekhyun jerked up like he’d been surprised. Chanyeol slid over and held the blankets up for Baekhyun to lay next to him. He watched in silence as Baekhyun debated, but couldn’t hide his relieved smile when the singer relented and joined him. He wasn’t entirely stupid, either; the first thing he said was that he had no experience with something like genuine lovemaking, and not just subbing. 

“I could tell,” Chanyeol replied. “Have you ever been kissed before?” Before me, he wanted to know. Baekhyun shook his head and answered in the negative. His voice was already breathless with desire, and Chanyeol couldn’t help himself. He kissed him. Baekhyun followed his lead when Chanyeol deepened the kiss, and even the light, fleeting touches were driving him wild inside. He rolled them so that Baekhyun was beneath him and rocked against him, grinding their hips together. 

It was so innocent. Baekhyun’s reactions were so out of proportion. It was wonderful. In the back of his mind, an impish desire to use Baekhyun’s weakness against him won over his good sense, and he pulled both of Baekhyun’s wrists up above his head, pinning them with a firm hand. 

“No, don’t,” Baekhyun whispered, but Chanyeol cut him off by cupping his erection through the loose pyjama pants. Baekhyun’s protest died in a wordless whimper at the touch. 

“Trust me,” Chanyeol reassured him. “You’re not a sub.” 

“Oh, god,” Baekhyun whimpered. It wasn’t a direct reply, but it would do. Holding his hands immobile worked just as Chanyeol thought it would. His hips jerked violently as he came, and the feeling of it against Chanyeol’s palm was sexier than the most expensive top-shelf porn. He leaned back and released the singer, watching him come back to himself bit by bit as he tried to decide whether or not to jerk himself off. His breath caught when Baekhyun smiled sleepily at him, but his whole body came to an electrifying halt at his next words. 

“Can I blow you?”

He inhaled so sharply he choked, and couldn’t figure out what he was supposed to say. “Oh, if you want,” he said finally, shocked by Baekhyun’s brazen audacity. 

“I want,” Baekhyun said, and the words were a low murmur, almost a purr. The blow-job in question almost became a moot point as he could have come in his pants from Baekhyun’s voice alone if he’d kept talking after that. Fortunately, Baekhyun went to work immediately, pushing Chanyeol’s tee-shirt up and kissing marks into his chest. He was so worked up by the time Baekhyun reached his lower body that he didn’t think he was going to last long. Then he remembered how difficult it was the first time, and thought that Baekhyun would probably appreciate not having to work him over for too long. 

He felt Baekhyun’s initial hesitation, and was preparing to tell him that he didn’t have to if he wasn’t ready, when Baekhyun surprised him into choking again by taking him firmly in hand, stroking every inch of his erection and even venturing down into his pubes and balls before he worked up the courage to actually get his mouth on him. He sucked gently on just the tip, but Chanyeol had to wrench down hard on himself to keep from coming from that alone. He couldn’t stop the noises that emerged from his mouth, however. 

In the back of his mind, despite the repeated reassurances that the club had no bearing on their relationship, he couldn’t help but remember that Baekhyun was a sub at heart, and that Sarang had stressed multiple times the importance of letting them know they were doing well, and that they were appreciated. The words, “Oh, that feels good,” slipped out before he could stop them, but based on the pleased expression on Baekhyun’s face, he didn’t take them as they were meant – a dom expressing pleasure with a sub – but as a compliment. 

After a few more minutes, not even Sarang’s training could have held him back any longer. He yanked Baekhyun away from his body as he felt his orgasm overtaking him, not wanting to overwhelm him with too much at once and scare him away, and as he lay back enjoying the afterglow was surprised by Baekhyun running his fingers through the come and tasting it. 

The action was surprisingly hot. “You’re something else,” he said. When he expected Baekhyun to fall into his arms, the slightly-older man put him off for weeks. When he expected the virgin to run screaming, he boldly sucked him off and then licked his come off his fingers. 

“You’re filthy,” Baekhyun said, eyeing the rest of the mess cooling on his stomach. “Want a tissue?”

He did, but he was more tired out by their activity than he’d thought. “Think I’m ready for a nap,” he said, forcing the words out past a yawn. 

“How about a shower?” was Baekhyun’s next suggestion. Chanyeol almost got sharp with him, thinking, What part of tired didn’t make it through your head? but he edited himself at the last minute.

“Too much effort,” he denied. 

Baekhyun tried again. “How about a shower with me?”

Now that made an extreme difference. Chanyeol’s body stirred, despite the physical impossibility of getting it up again so soon. Then caution overwhelmed his immediate reaction. “If we can get away with it,” he said, thinking about what the others would say if they knew that the relationship was progressing apace. They collected the necessities and Chanyeol slipped into the bathroom first and waited for Baekhyun to join him.

It was surprisingly intimate, despite the fact that they did nothing sexual. Neither of them had the energy for it. When they were clean, Chanyeol fluffed his hair with the towel, and submitted when Baekhyun ruffled his hair right back. When they were both relatively dry and dressed, he returned to the bedroom and saw Kai going into his bedroom. He tidied the blankets and climbed into bed, leaving space for Baekhyun to lay next to him again if he chose. Baekhyun returned to the room shortly after he was done, and Chanyeol made the invitation before his courage gave out.

“Join me again? Just to sleep.” 

Baekhyun closed the door behind himself and smiled softly. “I think I could get to like this boyfriend thing,” he said. “And don’t be surprised if everyone knows tomorrow.” At Chanyeol’s questioning look, he explained. “Kai saw me.” 

Chanyeol grinned. “Everyone would have known sooner or later anyway. I’m not ashamed of you.” By now the instinct to reassure the sub was ingrained. He didn’t think Baekhyun would mind, even if he caught on to the true nature of the comments, if the way his face lit up was any indication. 

“Well, just a warning. It’s going to be sooner,” Baekhyun said, trying to push off the reaction. Chanyeol let it go.

“That’s fine,” he said around a yawn, and curled closer. He was asleep before he could think of anything else to say. 

 

Several weeks passed. Sarang called, startling Chanyeol out of a fantasy of post-Exo domestic bliss with Baekhyun.

“I have a new sub lined up for Saturday. Are you free?”

Chanyeol blinked at his phone. “Sure,” he said.

“See you then.” Sarang hung up. He’d almost forgotten about the arrangement to train as a dom. Several hours later found him on the couch practicing his rap for the new album. Baekhyun entered the room, pushed the paper out of his hands, and crawled into his lap, kissing him fiercely. Chanyeol wondered if he’d found out about the training at the club, but then decided that the reaction would probably be more volatile if he had. When Baekhyun wrapped his arms around Chanyeol’s neck, the rapper sensed without the words that he needed reassurance for something. 

That, he could give, and did so.

 

Saturday came, and for some reason Baekhyun was tense and unhappy all day. Several times, Chanyeol almost confessed to the training, almost told him that he wasn’t visiting the club for drinks – as he’d said once, when Baekhyun asked why he still went – but training to be a dom, because one day he was interested in taking their relationship to that level and he wasn’t willing to walk into it without knowing how not to hurt him seriously. The little pains of a whip or a paddle or being tied into uncomfortable positions for long periods of time were to be expected, and if Sarang was truly correct, something Baekhyun enjoyed anyway. He didn’t want to risk serious damage on the man he loved, however, and so the visits would continue. 

While Baekhyun was in the shower, he told the others he was visiting friends at a bar, and slipped out. The lie twisted on his tongue, and several times during the twenty minute walk he nearly turned around and went back to confess everything. Surely, surely if he took Baekhyun off-guard with a confession of his feelings, the singer would be less likely to overreact to the other, less important confessions.

In the end, he went through with it. 

Sarang met him at the door. “He’s not here yet,” he said. “Go to room six and wait. Angelique has been instructed to bring you drinks if you feel the need for them.” 

Chanyeol retreated to room six. It was more of a lounge than the private room Baekhyun, and later he himself, used with Sarang. When Angelique came, he refused a drink. When she came a second time, it was to tell him the sub was there, and he was needed on the center stage. 

Sarang took his duties as both a dom and the manager very seriously. All of the subs he’d presented for Chanyeol to practice on wore a mask or hood, or something else that concealed their identities. The sight of the newest sub in the sense-deprivation hood – a thing of Sarang’s own design, and something he’d taken pleasure in testing on Chanyeol in a brief revival of their old dom-sub relationship a few weeks past – wasn’t surprising to him. 

The sense of familiarity was. Sarang’s expression was inscrutable, and he wasn’t about to ask. 

“He’s like Starling,” Sarang said. “Masochistic in the truest sense of the word. Anything you can think of to do is fair game.” 

The sub was tied, helplessly, to a padded sawhorse. Sarang’s own love of paddles had translated itself to Chanyeol, and that’s what he chose. Sarang handed him one that looked more like the oar to a boat than a sexual object, and it was heavy and unfamiliar in his hand.

“Hit him,” Sarang urged. “That’s what he’s here for.”

Chanyeol swung, but he couldn’t get enough force into his arms. He kept picturing Baekhyun there in front of him, the image made all the more vivid by Sarang’s relating that they were the same. He wondered if he really had it in him to deliberately hurt someone like that, even if they did get something pleasurable out of it. 

Sarang took the paddle. “Like this, Liebe,” he said, and swung, hard. The sub jerked and moaned. More confident now, Chanyeol stepped back up behind him and tried again. “Very good,” Sarang said when he was done. “I’m going to cut his clothes off, since we don’t want to untie him just yet. Then pick the toy. Remember what I told you last time?”

“Combinations,” Chanyeol said. Sarang smiled at him. Chanyeol picked up a thick dildo, remembering Baekhyun again. He felt guilty at the thought, and did his best to set it aside. While Sarang cut the subs clothes off around the restraints, Chanyeol practiced swinging the new paddle he’d picked up to serve as the hammer. 

“Don’t push it all the way in yet,” Sarang warned. 

“I know,” Chanyeol said, and positioned the toy inside the sub before stepping back and using the paddle to push it in. The blows fell faster as he became more accustomed to its weight and the physical evidence of the sub’s enjoyment added to his own. 

Over the sound of the music, the sub began begging mindlessly. “Can I come? Please, can I come?” he was asking. Chanyeol paused, but Sarang shook his head, in the middle of drawing the sub up by the chest and manually finishing him off. 

“That sounds like,” he started, but Sarang interrupted.

“No names. That’s the deal, remember?”

“But –”

Suddenly the sub reached up and tore the hood off his head. Chanyeol’s mouth dropped open as Baekhyun stared at him, his expression a mixture of shock and outrage. Then Baekhyun unhooked his ankles and threw himself away from Sarang. Chanyeol lurched after him.

“Baek,” he started, then remembered the club. “Star-” he tried again, but knew that he didn’t have any right to that name. “Wait, please!” he begged, seeing the expression of hurt, betrayal and fury twist Baekhyun’s beautiful features. 

“You promised!”

Chanyeol collapsed over the table and watched him walk away. This was it. Baekhyun was never going to forgive him. 

“I’m very sorry,” Sarang said. “You weren’t supposed to know.”

“That doesn’t help me now,” Chanyeol said, hopelessness colouring his voice. 

“Go back to room six and let Angelique take care of you. I’m going to try and talk to him.” 

Numb, Chanyeol made his way back to the waiting room. Angelique was already there, a shot of tequila on the table with the bottle next to it. “You want me to talk to him?”

“Sarang’s talking,” Chanyeol said. He accepted the shot, but denied her when she went to refill it. Sarang entered the room, with another apology. 

“I can’t find him,” he said. “His clothes are gone, but he’s not in the room. Siberian said he left. I’m going to give him tonight to calm down, and then call him tomorrow and explain. Okay? This is not your fault.” 

Chanyeol laughed hollowly. “He’s not going to believe that.”

“That’s why I’m going to talk to him.”

“I’m just going to go. Thank you for your time.” He left the club, and searched every alleyway and side street between the club and the dorm, but he couldn’t find Baekhyun anywhere. Nervousness set in. 

When he got back to the dorm, he asked everyone he could find if they’d seen him. No one in Exo-K even knew he was supposed to have come back. He knocked on the door to Exo-M’s rooms; the door opened to reveal Luhan, Tao, and Kris in the sitting room. He looked around but couldn’t see anyone else.

“Is Baekhyun in here?”

Kris shook his head. “No. We haven’t seen him.” There was something curious about his expression, but Chanyeol couldn’t think beyond the knowledge that Baekhyun had vanished from the club without a trace. Panic set in. “Is something wrong?” Kris added, but Chanyeol barely heard him. 

“No one’s seen him,” Chanyeol said, more to himself. He twisted his hands into his hair, trying to remember if he’d missed him in one of those alleys. What if he’d been jumped? What if he’d been mugged? What if he was lying in one of those dirty alleys somewhere, in pain, and in need of help? Chanyeol turned and ran. “Sorry for bothering you,” he called back just before Luhan shut the door. 

He hit the streets at a dead run and combed each and every inch of the roads between the club and the dorm. He went back into the club and found Sarang.

“He didn’t go home,” he said, nearly hyperventilating. “He’s not anywhere. Did he come back here? Is he here at all?”

“Siberian said he left. He hasn’t been back. Liebe,” he took a deep breath. “Chanyeol, just go home. He’s probably with a friend.”

“His friends are at home,” Chanyeol said. “He’s not there. That means… something may have happened.”

“Liebe,” Sarang tried again, but Chanyeol spun on his heel and was off again. The possibilities flashed through his mind. Someone from the club followed him. Abduction. Rape. Murder. All possibilities. What if he’d run blindly, and been struck by a car? There was a hospital nearby. Chanyeol aimed for it, digging a picture of Baekhyun out of his wallet. 

The lady at the front desk was friendly and helpful, but had no good news when he presented the picture and asked if she’d seen him, or if anyone had been brought in.

“I’m sorry, no. No one by that name or matching that description has been brought in.”

“Thank you.” He turned and widened his search. 

Sometime past midnight, it began raining. Chanyeol had gone from running to walking to trudging, but he still hadn’t found him. He called Suho, but all the leader could tell him was that Baekhyun hadn’t come home yet. Icy dread gripped his heart, and he pushed on. He walked up and down every alley and street, calling occasionally. He tried Baekhyun’s cell phone, but it was turned off. He couldn’t bring himself to leave a message, because as hard as he tried to deny it, the thought was in his head: What if he was leaving messages for a dead man? 

He tried hospital after hospital, walking the streets. He stopped and asked in at shops and bars, but as the night wore on even the city nightlife went to bed. 

By sunrise, he was so tired he could barely see the picture he was showing to the clerks and staff in the shops that were opening, and the various men and women at the front desks of clinics and emergency rooms. He was so tired he couldn’t even remember his own name. His feet hurt, but he kept going. He had to know. 

The ringing came from a long distance, and it took him almost a full minute to realise it was his phone. He dug it from his pocket with cold-numbed fingers, nearly dropped it, and then ducked under an awning to answer it. 

Kris sounded furious. “Chanyeol! Where are you?”

He blinked and looked around. “The hospital,” he mumbled. 

“What hospital?” The fury in his voice turned to fear. 

“__________ General,” Chanyeol said. “It’s late. I should go home.” He’d failed.

“No, just stay there,” Kris argued. “What hospital?” he pressed. Chanyeol repeated the name. 

“I’m on my way,” Chanyeol said. He felt like if the top half of his body fell off, his feet would continue walking without him. He was so tired. “We need to find Baekhyun. I can’t find him anywhere.”

“Chanyeol, stay there,” Kris insisted. “Baekhyun’s here.” 

It was as if the sun broke through the clouds and was shining just for him. “He’s there? Is he safe?”

“Yes, he’s safe,” Kris said, and there was something in his tone that Chanyeol couldn’t identify. As the long night of fear receded, it left exhaustion and hunger in its wake. “We’ll be there in a few minutes, just stay where you are.” The call disconnected. Chanyeol kept walking, putting some distance between himself and the hated hospital where Baekhyun wasn’t. Time may have passed, but he felt disconnected from his body. He only knew that if he stopped walking, he’d fall over. He leaned against a nearby building and fell asleep standing up. His phone rang again, waking him. 

“Hel-”

“Where are you?” Kris demanded. 

He looked around. He hadn’t gotten far. He was walking slowly now, the terror that had fueled him through the night leaving him empty. “Couple blocks from the hospital.” The phone disconnected, and Chanyeol wondered for a moment if Kris and Sarang had gone to the same school for phone etiquette that apparently taught that hanging up without saying goodbye was perfectly alright. A car pulled up, and a door opened. Baekhyun hit the sidewalk at a run, not even bothering to close the door behind him. The look on his face was a mix of fury and worry, and Chanyeol felt bad for a moment for causing it, but he was there.

He was okay. The nameless fear that he’d been pushing away all night, that he’d find Baekhyun dead in an alley somewhere, washed away with the rain. 

“You idiot,” Baekhyun said by way of greeting. “It’s pouring with rain out here.” He hadn’t even noticed, though now that he’d had it pointed out, he realised how cold he was. “What do you think you’re doing?” Baekhyun looked fit to continue forever, so Chanyeol staggered forward and hugged him.

“I’m so glad you’re alright,” he said, muffling the words in Baekhyun’s hair. Baekhyun’s arms came around him, holding him close, and for a moment it was like yesterday never happened. They were together, they were alright. Everything would be fine. “I’m so glad,” he said again, and then the world turned grey, and then black. 

 

He woke up in bed. “It’s c-cold,” he muttered, and pulled the blankets up to his chin. Baekhyun leaned forward and put a hand on his forehead.

“I think you’ve got a fever.” The words were frosty and almost disconnected. He started to pull away, and Chanyeol grabbed his wrist, determined to get the words out before he left.

“Baekhyun, about last night. I’m sorry. It wasn’t… I’m sorry.” He wanted to say, ‘It wasn’t my fault! Blame Sarang! I didn’t even know it was you.’

But he didn’t want to make excuses. Baekhyun jerked his hand away, and it felt like he took Chanyeol’s heart with it. “Be sorry,” Baekhyun growled.

“I was afraid,” Chanyeol admitted. He was still shivering beneath the blankets but Baekhyun still looked like he was going to leave at any second. He had to get the words out. “I was so scared I was going to have to identify your body in a morgue somewhere. You weren’t anywhere.” He looked away. “I thought you were dead.” 

Baekhyun’s expression softened slightly. “Well, I’m not.” 

“I’m so glad. It doesn’t matter if you hate me as long as you’re alive.” He was still exhausted. The clock said only about an hour had passed since Kris, Tao and Baekhyun had pulled him off the streets. He forced the rest of the words out. “Baekhyun, I love you.” He was asleep before he could even see Baekhyun’s reactions to the words.

 

Another hand on his head drew him out of the semi-conscious state he was drifting in. “Definitely has a fever,” Kris was saying. “We can get the thermometer to check, but I doubt it’s life threatening. It’s just exhaustion. He walked all night in the rain.” 

Luhan’s voice chimed in. “Why would he do that?”

“Xiaolu, don’t you know? He and Baekhyun are dating,” Sehun said. 

“Were dating.” Baekhyun’s voice was still cold. Chanyeol flinched. No one noticed. “Past tense. After last night, I think we’re done.”

“What happened last night?”

“Nothing I can say to you.”

“Baekhyun…” Suho was audibly grinding his teeth. 

“It won’t mess us up as Exo, don’t worry.”

Feeling like a knife was twisting in his chest, Chanyeol drifted back off to sleep. 

The next time he woke up, the windows were dark and Tao was leaning over him. “You need to wake up and eat something, Chanyeol,” he said gently.

“I’m not hungry,” Chanyeol said, but his stomach gurgled and gave a lie to the words. “I don’t want to eat,” he amended. “I feel sick.”

He did. Baekhyun’s voice drifted in and out of his memory of the day.

I don’t care if he walked to Beijing to find me. He lied to me, over and over again. He’s never told me he loves me to my face. Just when he’s sick. Or drunk. Or out of his mind.

Someone else’s voice. Did you ever tell him you love him?

No, of course not. I hate him right now. I’m not going to lie to him. Unlike some people, I’m not a liar. 

Later, a ringing phone. Sarang? You are the second-to-last person I want to speak to right now. And a long pause. What do you mean it wasn’t his fault? You arranged it? You? Yeah, fuck you, Sarang. Fuck you both.

Tao held the bowl up to his lips. “When was the last time you ate, Chanyeol? Just take a little bit of soup. It’ll warm you up.”

He didn’t think it would stay down. Baekhyun’s voice echoed in his mind over and over. 

I hate him right now. I hate him right now. I hate him – hate him – I hate him – I hate him right now.

“I’ll try,” he said, and sat up. Cold air assaulted him, but hands were there to arrange the blankets. He took a small sip of the broth. It felt delicious going down, but as soon as it hit his stomach, it churned. “I can’t,” Chanyeol gasped. “I’m going to be sick.” Someone pushed a bucket into his lap just in time for his stomach to heave. The tiny bit of broth came up, as well as a lot of bile. He continued heaving until not even bile came up. Tao set the bowl aside and rubbed soothing circles on his back. 

“It’ll be okay,” he murmured, and added something in Chinese. Chanyeol didn’t understand a word of it, but it was pleasant to listen to. 

“I like hearing you talk,” he mumbled. Tao’s movement paused for a moment, and then continued.

“Should I talk to you, then?”

“In Chinese.”

He lay back down and listened to Tao’s lilting voice speaking words he didn’t understand. He drifted off to sleep to the sound of it. 

The next thing he was aware of was more voices. Baekhyun’s wasn’t among them, but he was split down the middle about whether to be happy about that or not. On one hand, he wanted a chance to press his case with Baekhyun. On the other, he didn’t want to hear Baekhyun say he hated him ever again.

“I thought you needed to practice Korean,” Kris was saying. He sounded far away. Tao was still close by; Chanyeol could feel the heat coming off him, mostly because he still couldn’t get warm. When he spoke, Chanyeol realised his perception was right and that he was still next to the bed.

“He said he wanted to hear me talk in Chinese. It was the last coherent thing he’s said for a couple of hours. Duizhang…”

“Zitao?”

“Should we take him to the hospital? He’s still running a fever.” 

Hours? Chanyeol struggled to open his eyes, but it felt like they were swollen shut. It was too much effort either way. 

“He hasn’t eaten anything in two days. We have to at least get some water into him, or we’ll have to take him in for –” he said something in Chinese. “I don’t know how to say it in Korean.”

“Dehydration. You’re right.” Kris moved closer, and Chanyeol felt his hands on his forehead. “Stupid idiot,” he murmured. “Baekhyun’s starting to feel guilty. I think some of the others have said something to him. Has Chanyeol said anything to you?”

“Not since the comment about hearing me speak in Chinese.”

“Are you awake, Chanyeol?”

With an effort, he pried his eyes open. “I wish I wasn’t. I feel awful right now.”

“That’s what you get for walking around in the rain for sixteen hours.” Kris’s face was torn between exasperation and amusement. 

“It wasn’t raining the whole time,” Chanyeol muttered. “I don’t think.”

A sharp intake of breath suddenly had both of their attentions turning to Tao, who looked faintly embarrassed under the scrutiny. “I almost forgot. Chanyeol, I said this earlier, but you might not have understood me. I wanted to say I’m sorry. We shouldn’t have lied to you.”

The words might as well have been in Chinese again, for all he understood. “What?”

Kris was nodding his agreement. “Tao’s right. When you came to our door and asked for Baekhyun, we told you he wasn’t here. He was. We lied. I’m sorry, too.” 

“It’s our fault you were out there. I feel guilty.”

The news had no bearing on his feelings. Whether he’d spent the night wandering the streets as he had, or tucked into his bed, Baekhyun would still ha- be angry with him for what happened at the club. “Is that why you’re both hovering?”

From the faintly sheepish looks they exchanged, Chanyeol guessed he was right. “It’s alright. I forgive you.” He shivered. “Or I would if I wasn’t so cold.” 

“It’s only because you’re running a fever,” Kris said, but Tao got up and located a heavier blanket for him. “Can you drink some water?”

“I can try.” He pulled himself into a sitting position and accepted the glass. His stomach was so empty it hurt when the water hit it, but at least he didn’t immediately vomit it back up. It was slightly stale and room temperature, but it might have been the coldest spring water right off a glacier for how it tasted to him. His body knew what it needed. 

“How about some more soup? I’ll get you a fresh bowl.” Tao got up and left the room. Kris sat on the other bed, the atmosphere between them awkward. The door opened again, too soon for it to be Tao. Baekhyun stepped in with a tub, eyes downcast.

“Kris, may we have a moment?”

Kris rose to his feet and stepped out with one last apologetic look to Chanyeol for the trouble he’d inadvertently caused. Chanyeol was grateful to him for taking Baekhyun in and didn’t care that he’d walked and become sick for nothing. The only thing that mattered was Baekhyun. The revelation was shocking in its completeness. He realised then and there that he’d lay down his life for Baekhyun if it came to it. He truly, deeply loved the other man. 

Even if he was hated in return. 

Baekhyun knelt beside the bed in silence. Chanyeol was torn between staring at him and turning away, still hearing the echo of his words even as he wanted to memorise the way he looked. 

“Sarang called again and explained. Everything.” Baekhyun’s voice was soft. He moved something around in the tub, then wrung out a rag and folded it, laying it across Chanyeol’s forehead. It was icy-cold, and he shivered momentarily, but after a second he realised how hot his face felt. The cold rag soothed a headache he hadn’t even realised he’d had. “We never agreed that not going to the club was part of our relationship. I knew you were going. I assumed it was subbing.”

Chanyeol couldn’t find his voice. Baekhyun didn’t seem to need any input, however. 

“He also told me that the subs you’ve been practicing on were all anonymous as well. That’s standard practice for new doms at SiyahSarang’s, but I never even thought about you being a dom. Or that he’d set us up that way. I’m sorry for the way I reacted.” 

He pulled the rag off Chanyeol’s face and dipped it again in the water, pausing briefly as he felt it, and then put the back of his hand against Chanyeol’s cheek. The contact was blissful. “You’re really hot,” he murmured.

“You always thought so,” Chanyeol joked. Baekhyun gave a small smile, and swirled the rag again, wringing it out and putting it back on his forehead. 

Baekhyun’s lower lip was trembling. It made Chanyeol want to lean up and kiss him, until the tears welled up in his eyes. “I’m really sorry, Chanyeol,” he said. “That I scared you like that. I wasn’t thinking. If I had, I might have realised that you were as surprised to see me as I was you. I should have known that you wouldn’t do that to me. I’m really sorry you got sick looking for me while I was here with Tao and – ” he broke off, suddenly aware that Chanyeol might not know of their complicity.

“They already apologised for it,” Chanyeol reassured him. “And you don’t need to. I knew you were prone to over-reaction when I … started dating you.” He couldn’t bring himself to say ‘fell in love with you.’ The echo of Baekhyun’s earlier words still rattled around in his mind. He suspected they would for quite a while. 

Baekhyun accepted his words and sighed, a tension leaving him. “I think I understand a little of what you were going through when you couldn’t find me. That morning, when they said you were missing… all I could think of was that the last thing I’d said to you was an accusation. An angry accusation of something you didn’t even do. And then Kris called and you said you were in a hospital…” His breath hitched. “You told me you were afraid you were going to have to identify my body in the morgue.”

Chanyeol nodded.

“I thought the same thing. That we were going to get there and you’d be paralysed. Dying. That you’d be dead by the time we got there and I’d never be able to say anything else to you.” He put his head down on the bed and cried, while Chanyeol rubbed circles on his back. “I’m so sorry, Chanyeol,” he sobbed. 

“Please stop,” Chanyeol said. “You’re going to make me cry in a minute, and then we’re both going to be crying. Please just say you forgive me.”

“Idiot,” Baekhyun said fondly, and wiped his eyes. “There’s nothing to forgive. Now, Sarang…” His expression darkened. 

“You can’t never go back to the club,” Chanyeol said. Baekhyun re-wet the rag, and Chanyeol was forced to lay down again, and pull the covers back up to his chin. He was so cold his teeth were chattering, though his face was still so hot he thought the rag was probably steaming. 

“Yes I can. I have you.”

Chanyeol choked. “Excuse me?”

“It was never your learning to be a dom that I had a problem with. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking while you were in here sleeping. I really don’t mind that you went and were learning it, so long as it was like Sarang. You never were … intimate with them, were you?”

The look on his face promised murder. Chanyeol was faintly relieved to be able to answer in the negative. Baekhyun was all smiles again. 

“So, you can take care of me. I’ll take care of you. And in the between times, we can be lovers. Boyfriends. If that’s what you want.” 

“I want,” Chanyeol said fervently. “But I’m still not… I mean, we don’t have… I mean… supplies.” He trailed off helplessly. “And I don’t know everything. Sarang said he would bring in an expert in knots and ropes next time.”

Baekhyun’s eyes darkened at the thought, and Chanyeol deeply regretted that he was weak as a newborn kitten. He wanted very much to take advantage of that expression on Baekhyun’s face, but he didn’t dare even kiss him, for fear of passing his illness on. “Then we can keep going. If you want.”

“I think you want too, and you’re just being too stubborn to admit it.”

“Oh, all right. I like Sarang, and I’d miss him. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“No, but I do think you needed to say it.”

Baekhyun was startled into silence for a moment. The look on his face was a familiar one, when he knew he’d been outmatched. 

“Ah, I’d miss Angelique if we never went back, anyway.”

Baekhyun scowled. “Angelique is a man,” he growled.

“We’ve been over this before. Are you jealous?”

“No!”

Chanyeol chuckled, and then lay back against the pillows. “I want to keep talking to you,” he said. “There’s so much to say. But I’m so tired.”

Baekhyun was instantly solicitous. “Get some sleep. I promise I’ll be here when you wake up again.”

“Thank you.”


	17. Doms Don't Submit.  Ever.

Chapter Fifteen

True to his word, the next time Chanyeol opened his eyes, Baekhyun was still there. His head was pillowed on his arms and he napped, but he was there. As an almost delightful change from the last few awakenings, Chanyeol found he was too hot, and kicked off some of the blankets covering him. A bowl of covered soup and a glass of water were on the table beside him, and he drank both gratefully. 

He realised then, looking around, that he had no idea what bedroom he was in. Nothing was familiar, and he experienced a momentary disorientation. Then other parts of his body made themselves known, and he eased up out of the bed. His movement didn’t disturb Baekhyun, and he wondered how long the singer had been by his side. A quick check of his phone told him he’d been in that bed for nearly three days. He sniffled, but his nose was both running and blocked up somehow. Fabulous, he thought. Fever broke but now I’m sick. 

When he left the room, the first thing he noticed was that everything was backwards. The bathroom should have been a right turn from the doorway, but it was left. A Chinese proverb above the toilet told him that he was in Exo-M’s dorm. That cleared up a lot of the disorientation, but he wondered why he was there and not his own room. 

And he felt disgusting. Wrinkling his nose as he washed his hands, he decided he needed to go and find someone to tell him why he was still in Exo-M’s dorm, then head back to his own room and take a shower and get some clean clothes on. 

He met Kris in the sitting room. Tao and the others crowded out of the kitchen when Kris exclaimed in surprise to see him up and about. The attention quickly became stifling, however. Tao noticed first.

“Duizhang,” he said, and Kris looked out over them, and clapped his hands.

“Alright everyone, give him some room. How are you feeling, Chanyeol?”

“Like I was run over by a truck and then dumped in a sewer, but I’m getting better. I’m out of bed at least.” He tugged on the side of his sweat-soaked tee shirt. “I need a shower,” he added. “And why am I here?”

Chen chuckled. “Suho was having a meltdown when they brought you back, and no one could figure out what to do with you, so Kris made an executive decision. The manager stopped by a couple times to make sure you didn’t need to go to the hospital. He’ll be relieved that you’re up and about.” 

Chanyeol yawned, covering his mouth with his hand. “For a while, anyway.” 

“Come on,” Kris said. “You’re coming back here when you get your shower, since I don’t trust the rest of your group to know what to do with you. Chen,” he said, and broke into Chinese. Chanyeol vaguely recalled asking Tao to speak to him in Chinese, and wondered what he’d said. He’d never have admitted it in his right mind, but he found the language extremely pretty. Kris escorted him to Exo-K’s dorm across the hall, and helped him gather fresh clothes. Chanyeol wondered for a moment if he was going to offer to stand by in the bathroom as well, but he stopped in the hallway. He did insist that Chanyeol leave the door cracked, just in case. 

Under the pounding spray, he found himself getting dizzy, and had to sit down. It was slightly embarrassing, but he decided he’d rather have sat down in the shower than fallen over and had all of them staring at him while he was naked. 

Besides which, the impish part of his brain supplied, Baekhyun would probably object.

Once he was clean and dry and dressed, he exited the bathroom to find Kris still on guard. Tao lurked at the end of the hallway, waiting for them. It was uplifting to know that if something had gone wrong, they cared enough to take time out of their day and just be near him. 

“Back to bed? Luhan’s gone to the store to get some cold medicine. And you need to eat something. And water.”

“Kris, you really don’t have to. I mean, I’m not really hung-”

Kris whirled on him. “You will eat,” he demanded. The part of Chanyeol that had submitted so easily to Sarang sprang to life, and he dropped his eyes.

“Okay,” he said. 

He couldn’t see Kris’s expression, but he saw out of the corner of his eyes the way the older rapper drew back in surprise at his sudden acquiescence. When the silence stretched and neither of them moved, he risked a glance into Kris’s face, and saw the other man considering him with more interest than the situation warranted. Suddenly embarrassed – Kris wasn’t Sarang, he reminded himself forcefully – he cleared his throat and stepped forward. “Well, now that that’s sorted out,” he started, but the words trailed off when Kris neither moved nor responded. “What?”

Kris shook himself. “Nothing. I was just thinking about something, that’s all. Xiumin’s conspiring with Kyungsoo to make you some more soup and I think toast.” 

Lay burst into Exo-K’s dorm with a slightly wild look on his face. “Baekhyun’s awake and is freaking out,” he said. Chanyeol had the impression of a lesser officer reporting to a general. Kris glanced at Chanyeol, and by unspoken agreement, they started back to Exo-M’s dorm. He gave his bedroom a backwards glance, wondering why they wanted him in Exo-M’s room, but remembering the fierce expression on Kris’s face when he’d ordered him to eat, he didn’t press the issue. 

“Whose room is this, anyway?” Chanyeol asked when they’d returned. 

“Mine,” Kris said shortly. Chen was bent over the bed, straightening the sheets. Chanyeol noticed they’d been changed while he was in the shower, and felt guilty that they were all taking care of him. 

It was good care, and that wasn’t why he was objecting. It was the necessity of having to be taken care of in the first place. Baekhyun appeared in the room like a tornado, stirring the currents despite doing nothing but stand still. The energy coming off him was palpable. “You changed,” he said, and then visibly relaxed. “Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Kris said, and noticed Chanyeol putting a hand to his head. “Are you in pain?”

Chanyeol was beginning to feel stifled again. “Just dizzy,” he said. Three pairs of hands immediately reached out to help him into the bed. As promised, Kyungsoo and Xiumin appeared with a tray containing soup, rice, water, orange juice, crackers, and even some fresh fruit. It would rest lightly in his stomach, but still provide nourishment. At the smell of the soup his stomach gurgled, reminding him that he hadn’t really eaten much of anything in several days. Kris shooed everyone but Baekhyun out of the room while Chanyeol ate, making a point of asking where Tao was. Chanyeol knew he was going to become the topic of even more discussion, and wondered what they were going to say about him.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Baekhyun hovered, looking guilty and unhappy while he ate.

“Tired,” Chanyeol said. “I think I’m sick now on top of everything else.” 

“That’s what you get for wandering around in the rain,” Baekhyun said firmly, but the lines around his eyes said he was more worried than he was letting on. 

“That wasn’t your fault,” Chanyeol reassured him. “None of it was your fault.”

“It was too. If –”

“It was not. Kris and Tao lied for you. That makes it their fault. Do you see me holding it against them?”

Baekhyun’s expression turned sulky. “No.”

“Then don’t hold it against yourself.”

Baekhyun stuck his tongue out at him. “Merong,” he said. Chanyeol grinned.

“Don’t stick it out unless you plan to use it.”

Heat entered Baekhyun’s eyes. “Don’t tempt me.”

Chanyeol sighed. “Don’t do it anyway. I don’t want you to get sick as well.”

“Why not? It would just give them more to do. And maybe we could get you out of here and back into your own room where you belong.” 

Chanyeol surprised himself by eating everything the others had supplied for him with good appetite. With his stomach pleasantly full, and finally a decent temperature, neither too hot nor too cold, he found himself getting tired again. “This is becoming a pain,” he muttered. Baekhyun understood, and put a hand on his forehead.

“Your fever’s definitely gone,” he pronounced. “But Dr. Kris says you’ve probably caught a cold now since your immune system was compromised by the fever. Get some sleep. I’ve already said I’m not going anywhere.”

“I know.”

 

The voices cut through his dream, but Chanyeol couldn’t find the energy to really stir himself. Instead, he lay there and eavesdropped shamelessly.

“Baekhyun, this is probably going to sound personal. But what sort of relationship did Chanyeol have with Sarang?”

“Eh?”

Kris sighed. “You know what I’m talking about. No one else is going to find this out, but I have to ask.”

Baekhyun hedged. “Well, we didn’t exactly make dates out of it,” he said.

“Baekhyun!”

“As far as I can tell, he started as a sub. I don’t know what kind of agreement they arranged, but he told me they recently started training him to being a dom. But he definitely started as a sub.”

Kris made a noncommittal noise. “That’s what I thought,” he said, musingly.

“What? Why?”

“You’re a sub, so you probably never noticed,” Kris began. Baekhyun interrupted him.

“What do you even know about it, anyway?”

“What I’ve looked up on the internet. And I’m telling you, you wouldn’t have noticed this. I didn’t notice. I didn’t realise he was so involved with the scene.”

“I don’t understand.”

Tao spoke up quietly. “Duizhang,” he said. Chanyeol’s ears sharpened. He noticed Tao did that often; waited for Kris to acknowledge him before volunteering comments. It plucked at his memory, but he couldn’t place the reaction he had to it. “What Kris is unsuccessfully explaining is something I also witnessed. Chanyeol was arguing with him about something. I didn’t hear. Kris ordered him to eat. Chanyeol… submitted. That’s why we were curious. You said the other night Chanyeol was going to become your dom. Dom’s don’t submit.” There was laughter in his voice. “Ever.” 

Baekhyun said, “Oh.”

Chanyeol flushed under the covers, glad that they couldn’t tell he’d overheard them. He didn’t realise that that was how it would be construed. But as he replayed the scene in the hall, he realised that was exactly how it had happened. He’d even told himself Kris wasn’t Sarang; he knew he was seeing something there. 

Kris’s domineering command and Tao’s reluctance to speak were nagging at him. He knew there was something he was missing. He just couldn’t place it. 

“Chanyeol’s awake,” Tao commented. He feigned stretching and blinking to pretend like he hadn’t overheard the entire exchange. 

“Oh,” he said. “Everyone’s here.”

Baekhyun was at his side immediately. “How did you sleep? Are you feeling better?”

Chanyeol released one hand from the blankets and wobbled it. “So-so,” he said. Kris went to the table and produced some cold medicine. 

“This will probably make you sleep more,” he said. “But it’ll help your body fight off the infection. Get something else to eat before you take it.”

Chanyeol wrestled down his first impulse to say “Yes, sir!” and salute, because it would only be misconstrued. Also, in light of their recent conversation, he didn’t think it would be a good idea to add more fuel to the fire of discussion. He already felt they were talking too much about him as it was. Food was brought for all of them, and they had a little picnic there in the room before Chanyeol took his medicine and fell asleep once more. 

When he woke again, it was dark. Baekhyun was asleep on the other bed. His nose was clear when he inhaled, and the malaise was fading. He felt remarkably energetic, and then realised he’d been sleeping for the better part of a week. He damn well better be feeling energetic. He slipped out of the bed and exited the room. Kris was sitting on the couch with Tao’s head in his lap; Tao was snoring lightly. When the older rapper became aware of him, he silently lifted one finger to his lips, warning Chanyeol to be quiet. Chanyeol nodded, and entered the room without a word, sitting on the floor to watch TV. 

He dozed off there on the floor, and was startled when someone shook him awake. Kris looked terrifying in the muted blue light coming from the television. Behind him, Tao stood rubbing his eyes.

“If you’re tired, go back to bed,” Kris said, his voice quiet but firm. 

“I’m tired of sleeping,” Chanyeol complained. “I’m tired of being in bed.” He wondered where Kris and Tao were sleeping, if he and Baekhyun were in their room. “I’m just going to be on the couch for a while.” Kris continued to hover, so Chanyeol took up the remote and made himself comfortable on the sofa. When Kris still didn’t move, Chanyeol made shooing motions at him. They finally left, and Chanyeol stared mindlessly at the television, not quite taking in what he was watching. 

At some point, he fell asleep again, propped up on the arm of the sofa. 

 

Someone was poking the tip of his nose. Chanyeol batted the touch away and blinked his eyes open, only to jerk back, startled, at the sight of a face entirely too close to his own. Baekhyun giggled, and crawled up onto the couch beside him, cuddling close. 

“Why are you on the sofa?”

“I couldn’t sleep any more last night, so I came out to watch TV and drifted off, I guess.”

“Silly. You scared me when I woke up and you weren’t in bed.”

Chanyeol inhaled deeply, taking in the smell of him. It was part sweat, part shampoo, and part something wholly Baekhyun that he couldn’t define. He couldn’t have smelled better if he’d been wearing the world’s finest cologne, and Chanyeol smiled, deeply content to just bask in it. “I’m sorry.”

“I forgive you.” 

They watched the droning variety show in silence for a few minutes. “We should move back to our own room. Where are Tao and Kris sleeping?”

Baekhyun laughed again. “In our room.” 

“We still shouldn’t displace them any more now that I’m better.”

“Are you?”

Chanyeol looked up at him, and found Baekhyun scrutinizing him closely. “Probably I’m still sick, but I don’t feel as bad,” he amended. Baekhyun nodded, accepting it. 

“You look much better.”

They lapsed into a comfortable silence. With everyone else still asleep, it felt like they were the only ones in the dorm. 

“I’ve been thinking,” Chanyeol said, and his voice was even despite the lie. He hadn’t been thinking of it at all; it just occurred to him seconds before he spoke. “I want to ask you something, but there hasn’t really been time. Or there have been other people around.”

Baekhyun shifted to look at him directly. It left Chanyeol’s side cold where his body had been. “What’s up?”

He flicked a glance around the room to make sure they were still truly alone. The only sound came from the heater and the television. “If you don’t mind,” he said, and swallowed nervously. 

“If I don’t mind what…?” Baekhyun prompted when his silence stretched.

“I’d like you to fuck me.” The words tumbled out quickly, and as soon as they left his mouth he wanted to take them back.

“What?”

“I trust you. And I … we’ve been together for months. Touching is nice, but I want…” He flushed. “This sounds like a girl. But I want to go all the way. And I want you on top.”

This time it was Baekhyun’s silence that stretched, making Chanyeol nervous as hell. “Baekhyun?”

“I … don’t object,” Baekhyun said, sounding stunned. “But what about you, don’t you want to…?”

“It’s because I don’t want you to feel like my sub. This is our personal relationship. If you want me on top later…” He had to swallow again, because his mouth was dry just thinking about it, “Well, we can talk about it later. But for the first time… What do you think?”

Baekhyun lunged and kissed him. They drew apart only long enough for him to speak. “I think I’d like that,” he said, and kissed him again. This time, Chanyeol pushed him away.

“It’s not going to be like last time when you had to think about it for two months before anything happens, is it?”

“No.”

“Good.”

Kris interrupted them from the doorway. “Making out with sick people is entirely inappropriate, Baekhyun.”

They broke apart guiltily. Chanyeol suddenly remembered that he was sick, and worried that he might have passed it on to Baekhyun.


	18. The Happiest Man In The World

Chapter Sixteen

To Chanyeol’s everlasting relief, the worst Baekhyun suffered from their impromptu-makeout session on the couch was a minor cough that passed quickly. His own illness ran its course, and was defeated swiftly by the cold medicine Kris acquired. He was grateful when he and Baekhyun moved back into their own room; it had been exceedingly awkward to sleep in Tao and Kris’ room. On top of that, he was pretty sure it was Chen who was supposed to be Kris’ room-mate, and wondered when it changed. 

With everything worked out between them all, and including the unexpected room-swap, Exo as a whole rose out of the whole debacle as a stronger unit than they’d been. Life went on mostly as usual for a few weeks, and then Chanyeol started to notice a change in Baekhyun’s behaviour. It wasn’t anything he could define precisely; it was more of a sense that something beneath the surface was changing. He continued to visit SiyahSarang, both with Baekhyun and alone, though there were no repeats of the ‘double-date.’ It was all arranged by Sarang; when they arrived together, Sarang took Baekhyun away to do whatever they did while Chanyeol was delivered into the hands of Lady Siyah or one of the other masters Sarang co-opted to train him. 

Very occasionally, he arrived at the club alone and acted as Sarang’s sub. He’d meant it when he said he preferred being a dom; regardless of that, there were times when he needed the release both physical and emotional from the stress of work and his relationship with Baekhyun and everything. He looked forward to the day when Baekhyun would sub for him willingly, a fact that both Sarang and Baekhyun himself alluded to on separate occasions. The only caveat was the reminder that it remain separate from their Exo-lives. As Exo, they were boyfriends and sometimes-lovers. To Baekhyun, that was all they needed to know, and Chanyeol agreed. But one day…

One day he would tie his own Claim around Baekhyun’s throat. 

Just thinking about it caused his blood to pound and race south, and an uncomfortable tightening in his pants. 

As he made himself comfortable in bed one night, Baekhyun surprised him by climbing in next to him. Although they shared the bedroom, they didn’t always sleep together. He didn’t object, however, especially not when Baekhyun climbed on top of him and began kissing him. 

When they broke apart to breathe, Chanyeol couldn’t keep the grin off his face. “What brought this on? Not that I’m complaining,” he hurried to add. 

The look Baekhyun gave him was pure sex. “I’ve been thinking,” he said. 

Heat curled through his stomach. “About what?”

“I think we should sleep together.”

It was the expected announcement, but it still sent a fresh surge of blood into his dick. “I can’t find anything wrong with that statement,” Chanyeol breathed, and was rewarded with Baekhyun’s airy laugh. 

“I thought you might like it.” As he spoke, one hand drifted between their bodies. Baekhyun paused at finding Chanyeol already half-hard, but his lips quirked into a half-smile as he stroked and rubbed through the thin cotton of the rapper’s pyjama pants. Chanyeol’s breath caught in his throat as Baekhyun worked him up. It didn’t take them long after that to shed their clothes, and Baekhyun – with another wicked smile – produced a bottle of lube from somewhere. If he’d thought about it, Chanyeol would have expected to have to guide Baekhyun through the process. He’d slept with girls and he’d had long, in-depth conversations with Sarang in addition to doing quite a lot of internet research, but Baekhyun surprised him yet again by seeming to know exactly what he was doing. 

By the time the smaller man pushed into him, Chanyeol was on the edge and had to consciously hold on to his control. Baekhyun’s beautiful, long-fingered hands were incredibly adept when he put them to certain uses. He rocked slowly, working his way in inch by inch until he was buried to the hilt in Chanyeol’s body. It was intimate in ways Chanyeol never could have anticipated, and the expression on Baekhyun’s face was blissed out. 

“Are you okay?” the words slipped out without consulting his brain first. Baekhyun shushed him.

“Don’t talk right now. Just… give me a minute or so.” His voice was tight, and there were lines at the corners of his eyes. Concerned, Chanyeol was silent for a few seconds.

“Baekhyun, seriously, are you alright?”

“Fine! I’m fine!” His breath was coming fast, too. “I’m just afraid that if I move right now this is going to be over too fast.” His cheeks were tinged pink, and as comprehension dawned, Chanyeol nearly laughed out loud. Mischievously, he tightened his muscles, and was delighted when Baekhyun moaned helplessly. 

“Oh god! Don’t do that!”

Chanyeol did it again just to be contrary, and then as if in retaliation, Baekhyun withdrew nearly all the way and slammed into him forcefully. A choked noise forced its way out of Chanyeol’s throat at the sensations, and Baekhyun’s eyes were glazed. “Omigod,” he breathed, and did it again. Before too long, they had a quick rhythm going between them. Chanyeol braced his feet against the mattress and pushed up as Baekhyun thrust in; it was an almost embarrassingly short time before they were both coming. 

Afterward, Chanyeol realised how sweaty they’d both become during the exertion. His body tingled pleasantly; it wasn’t as overwhelming as playing with Sarang, but it was warmer and more exciting. He leaned over and kissed Baekhyun briefly. “I need a shower,” he murmured.

Baekhyun flopped a hand at him. “I can’t move,” he mumbled back. 

A grin plastered itself onto his face and refused to leave. “You know where to find me,” Chanyeol said, and rolled off the mattress, wincing as new parts of his body throbbed into awareness. The pleasurable aftershocks were fading and he became increasingly aware of how sticky with sweat and other fluids he was. Wrinkling his nose, Chanyeol didn’t waste any time wrapping a towel around his waist and making for the bathroom. 

When he was clean, he found Baekhyun asleep on his mattress, but with his body still buzzing, he opted to join the others in the living room instead of laying down next to Baekhyun. He dressed in clean pyjamas and padded down the hallway, aware of the shit-eating grin on his face that wouldn’t go away. Sehun noticed him and elbowed Suho. Jongin and Kyungsoo looked up in unison. The expressions on their faces made it clear that they all knew exactly what went on behind the closed door, but not even the friendly teasing could put a dent in his mood. When Baekhyun wandered out, sleepily rubbing his eyes, it sparked a new wave of snickers from the other members. Baekhyun either didn’t notice, or like Chanyeol, didn’t care. He merely curled up in Chanyeol’s lap and went back to sleep. 

Chanyeol curled around him, feeling like the luckiest, happiest man in the world. 

 

When Chanyeol showed up to the club a week later, Sarang met him at the door. 

“I was hoping you’d be here tonight,” the dom said, and sounded genuinely pleased to see him. “I have some good news for you. I’ve been thinking about it, and I’ve realised there’s nothing more I can teach you. Consider this your graduation.”

Chanyeol blinked. “Excuse me?”

Sarang beamed, looking like a proud father, and presented him with an elongated velvet box. “Your graduation from student to master. I’ve wracked my brain, and there’s nothing else I can teach you in the arts of dominance.”

Chanyeol felt a wave of happiness wash over him as he accepted the box, and the statement. “What’s this, then?”

“Starling and I collaborated on it. Go ahead, open it.” 

Curious, he pried the box open. An orange ribbon with a decorative charm attached lay against a soft white background. Chanyeol frowned for a moment as he tried to figure out what it was, and then as he turned it, realised the charm was a “C” – it was his own Claim necklace. His face flushed as the implications of what it truly meant passed through his mind. It was also reminiscent of the time he’d wrapped the gold foil and tied it around Baekhyun’s neck in a temporary – though very deliberate – Claim. On stage. Baekhyun had pounced on him afterward for it, and later revealed that he could have killed Chanyeol for doing it so publically. Especially because of the way it made his knees weak and his heart race. He was sure that Baekhyun had that in mind when he’d supposedly ‘collaborated’ with Sarang to create it. 

Casually, Sarang reached into his pocket and withdrew something else. “And there’s one other thing. This was returned to me today; I thought perhaps it might be of interest to you.” Nonchalantly, he held the object – a Claim necklace, one of his own, Chanyeol realised – up for observation. 

His heart stopped dead in his chest when he realised the little charm read ‘Starling.’ “Is that…?”

Sarang smiled with genuine warmth. “He’s all yours, Liebe.” He clapped a hand on Chanyeol’s shoulder, nearly knocking him over with the force of it. “Oh, and one more thing. I don’t do this for just anyone, so don’t bruit it about the place, but I’m giving you room five.”

Chanyeol felt tears spring to his eyes at the offer. The private rooms were meant for everyone who had need of them; usually some advance notice was given, but if the room was empty, it was available. Sarang’s private room for Baekhyun was the exception, and only because Sarang owned the club. The offer to make an exception for Chanyeol as well… 

It meant a lot. Chanyeol found himself at a loss for words, and simply bowed as low as he could.

“Oh, stop that. You’re a dom now, Liebe. Be powerful and in control. But don’t forget how to sub, either. I think it might be fun sometime.” With that, he pushed Chanyeol a few steps down the hall, and left the club. Siberian, who’d overheard the entire exchange, burst out of his office and spontaneously hugged Chanyeol. 

“I’m so proud of you!” He squealed. “Remember the first time you came in here? You didn’t even know what it was and now look at you!”

Chanyeol hugged him back, still somewhat shaken, and when Siberian released him he went straight for the club. Room five, he thought, and wondered what would be in it. Would it be empty? Would he have to fill it on his own? Where would he even start looking for some of the implements Sarang used?

Angelique, the bouncer, and the DJ all clapped for him when he arrived on the main floor. Chanyeol realised he was smiling widely, but he was so overwhelmingly happy that even if a meteorite had fallen on his head it wouldn’t have put a dent in his good mood. Angelique floated over to him and offered a drink. It was soda, and Chanyeol chuckled to himself. 

“I hear you’ve even got your own room,” Angelique said, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively. “Isn’t Sarang nice?”

“He’s incredible,” Chanyeol said. “I had no idea. I just…” He gestured helplessly with his hands.

Angelique grinned at him. “That’s the whole point of surprises, silly. Are you going to go check out your room now?”

“Yes, of course. Have you seen it?”

“Not recently.” There was something a little off about her tone, but he couldn’t place it, and didn’t have the patience to decipher her mysteries just then. “Have fun!” She vanished as quickly as she had appeared and Chanyeol made his way through the club towards room five.

Just before opening the door, he paused. There was definitely something going on tonight, and for a moment he was almost afraid to open the door. He knew it would get back to Sarang if he simply fled without at least going in and looking around, and that would not make the owner happy, especially since he made a point of giving him the room.

Taking a deep breath, Chanyeol pushed open the door and stepped inside. He froze, and the door swung gently closed behind him. 

All he saw was Baekhyun. All he saw was Baekhyun. The slightly older singer was stretched out across the bed on his stomach, hips raised in a provocative pose. He wore only a pair of tiny leather shorts. 

Chanyeol choked. 

“It took you long enough,” Baekhyun purred, stretching. The movement drew Chanyeol’s attention to the fact that he was also wearing gloves and socks, with the leather D-ring straps around his wrists and ankles. It looked bizarre until he realised Baekhyun was wearing cat ears on his head, and he finally noticed the long tail that stretched out across the mattress, curving away from his body. Sarang was an evil, diabolical man. He choked again, trying to breathe and swallow at the same time. Baekhyun drew himself up onto his knees, cocked his head, and said, “Meow.” 

Chanyeol’s mouth fell open and all the air in his lungs rushed out in one long whoosh. “Mother of god,” he whispered, and forcibly swallowed, trying to get some moisture back into his mouth. 

Baekhyun, who knew full well what effect he was having, the minx, smiled naughtily. “I believe you have something for me?”

Chanyeol’s brain was stuttering and stalling. “What?”

For the first time, Baekhyun slipped out of character and rolled his eyes. “How about this, then? Should I call you Master or do you prefer something else?”

Memory kicked him in the head. The Claim. Of course. “Oh my god,” he whispered again, and withdrew the box from his pocket. Discarding the box on the nearest flat surface, he tried to walk as nonchalantly as possible, as though he claimed his best friend/boyfriend/bandmate in a sexual domination ritual every day, but his head felt completely detached from the rest of his body and he knew he failed at it. He might as well have been walking on his hands and holding things with his feet and possibly even breathing through his stomach for all the disconnection he felt from his body. Nothing seemed to work right just then. His hands trembled as he stretched his new Claim out between his fingers. Baekhyun tilted his head back and bared his throat, still kneeling on the bed. One hand absently toyed with the end of the tail as he waited. 

Chanyeol regained some of his sense of the ceremony, and paused just after the velvet strap made contact with Baekhyun’s skin, before wrapping it around at the back where it would fasten. Baekhyun’s eyes opened, and for a moment their eyes met directly. “This is just for here,” Chanyeol reassured him. He knew it and Baekhyun knew it, and he knew Baekhyun knew it, but he also knew it was the right thing to say. An indefinable tension leaked out of Baekhyun’s body at the words. As he pushed the ends of the strap around the back of Baekhyun’s neck and fastened them together, he leaned down and kissed him gently. Baekhyun responded immediately by opening his mouth and inviting a deeper kiss. 

Chanyeol kept it relatively chaste for a few moments more, and then reached up and tangled the fingers of one hand into Baekhyun’s hair, roughly yanking his head back in order to kiss his way down the column of his throat. The noise Baekhyun involuntarily made told Chanyeol the motion was not unwelcome in the least. He pushed the singer back up against the bed, crawling over him to continue the kiss. One hand slipped between them and he fondled Baekhyun through the leather shorts, intrigued at the feel of them in his hand. Baekhyun’s hips jerked up twice before he got himself under control, and when Chanyeol broke the kiss, his eyes were glazed and his expression sleepy. 

“So you’re mine now,” Chanyeol said, wonderingly. Some cohesion came back into Baekhyun’s expression and he smiled without saying anything. “I’ve wanted you like this for so long that now that I have you I don’t know what to do with you,” Chanyeol admitted, drawing a quiet laugh from the other singer. 

“We have a long time to get used to it, if you want,” Baekhyun said. “This is our room now. Yours, technically, but if you bring anyone else here without telling me first I will kill you.” His expression was light, but the tone in which he spoke was deadly serious. 

Chanyeol was almost insulted. “I wouldn’t,” he said defensively. Baekhyun was all smiles again. He pushed lightly at Chanyeol’s chest.

“Off for a second, I need to shift,” he said. Chanyeol, puzzled, withdrew slightly, and Baekhyun straightened his legs out some.

“What…?”

“The tail,” Baekhyun said, drawing Chanyeol’s attention to it. He picked it up and felt it; it was simply a strip of velvet fabric, somewhat less than a metre long. 

“What about it?”

“I’m guessing they didn’t tell you I’d be in here,” Baekhyun hedged, the corners of his lips turning up.

“They didn’t tell me anything except that the room was mine.” He tugged experimentally on the tail and watched, both confused and delighted, as Baekhyun’s eyes fluttered. It was an odd reaction, and he followed the tail up to the shorts with his fingers. He discovered that it wasn’t attached to the shorts, as he’d originally thought, but instead had been pulled through a tiny slit in the back of them. Pushing his fingers through it, he discovered that the tail was actually attached to some sort of toy. “Oh, I see,” he said, and tugged again. Baekhyun’s hips lurched off the bed as he whimpered. “The only thing that could have been better than this,” he said, “was if I’d come in here to find you wearing a ribbon and nothing else.” 

“You have a fil-ah! – filthy mind,” Baekhyun gasped as Chanyeol continued to play with the tail. 

“Does it vibrate?”

“Filthy mind!” Baekhyun admonished again, but groped around in the sheets for something that he then handed to Chanyeol. It turned out to be a little remote control, roughly the size of a car remote with more buttons. “It’s one of Sarang’s new ones –” his eyes darkened with the memory of Sarang using it on Chanyeol. “He didn’t bother to explain it to me, though.” He pouted slightly. A flush of warmth spread up Chanyeol’s body starting in his toes. If Baekhyun didn’t know how it worked…

“He’s never used it on you?”

“No. I didn’t even know he was developing it until that night with you.”

He’d shared the secret with Chanyeol, though, of course. Even though he couldn’t see his own expression, he knew from the reaction on Baekhyun’s face that the slow smile curling across his face was pure sin. “So you’re telling me your only experience with this particular thing was watching me?”

Baekhyun started to lose patience. “Haven’t you been listen-en-en-ah! What is that!”

Chanyeol laughed out loud. He’d pressed the button to cause the toy to swell. He studied the remote for a moment, then set it so that the toy would grow and shrink rhythmically before he turned the vibrations on. Baekhyun went limp against the mattress for a brief moment before his back arched in a futile attempt to twist away from the sensations. 

Someone – Chanyeol suspected Sarang, who liked to think of details – had arranged some ropes with hooks for the D-rings within easy reach. While Baekhyun was struggling with the toy, Chanyeol used the time to pull his legs out and attach the cuffs to the hooks before moving up and working on his wrists. He pushed the override button on the remote that reset the toy and Baekhyun collapsed breathlessly against the mattress. 

“Holy shit,” he breathed, panting heavily. Then he noticed the restraints. “You – !”

Chanyeol settled himself between Baekhyun’s knees, sitting cross-legged on the bed, and took in the sight of Baekhyun stretched helplessly across silk sheets, with the “C” Claim around his neck. The cat ears had come slightly askew, but it gave Baekhyun a quizzically feline look, and he left them as they were. “This is fun,” he commented. Baekhyun started to glower at him, but Chanyeol could see the smile playing at his lips and knew he wasn’t seriously upset. He cut off the glare in its infancy by turning the toy back on, then settled back and watched Baekhyun writhe. 

It wasn’t until the panting turned into involuntary whimpers and breathless pleas that Chanyeol decided to allow him to finish. He unlaced the front of the shorts, and without letting Baekhyun know what he was doing, leaned forward and sucked him off. Baekhyun nearly screamed at the end.

When Chanyeol untied him and helped him out of the tiny shorts and ‘tail’ his eyes were half-lidded, and he wore a sleepy, contented smile. Chanyeol knew he was the luckiest, happiest man in the world right then, but a nagging feeling in the back of his mind told him it couldn’t last forever.


	19. Cruise From Hell

**Chapter Seventeen**

Some weeks later, the managers announced that Exo had been invited on a cruise around the East Sea that would last three weeks and stretched all the way up the Russian coast and back down again, with some ports in Japan and China on the itinerary as well.  In return, they would be obligated to perform a little, but nothing that should prove too strenuous.  All of the members were excited about it.

For Chanyeol, it felt like the honeymoon vacation after a wedding, and he and Baekhyun looked forward to the cruise for more than just one reason. 

They drove down to Busan to catch the boat, using three vans to give everyone some space.  Chanyeol was privately amused at the way they arranged themselves.  He and Baekhyun shared the first van with Luhan and Sehun, who spent the majority of the trip in the far backseat, huddled together and talking in low voices.  Chanyeol would have liked to have claimed the back seat to get a chance to cuddle with Baekhyun, but he didn’t begrudge them their choice.  He knew that Sehun wanted to get close to Luhan, and Luhan – while friendly – continually put him off.  The second van contained Kris, Tao, Jongin, and Kyungsoo, while Lay, Xiumin, Chen, and Suho rode in the third.  He was positive there was  _something_  between Tao and Kris, but he hadn’t been able to figure out the exact details yet, and while there had been no hints of it, he was pretty sure there was something going on between Kai and D.O., too.  It bothered him that he didn’t know exactly what it might be.  Privately, he began referring to the vans as The Couple Van, The Almost-Couple Van, and The Bachelor Van.  Baekhyun laughed out loud when he shared it, drawing odd looks from the driver, the manager, and Luhan and Sehun in the back, but they refused to explain it, which added to Baekhyun’s hilarity. 

The trip was largely uneventful.  Sehun fell asleep against Luhan’s shoulder, and Chanyeol found the older singer smiling fondly at him, reaching up to gently move a lock of hair off his face.  When Luhan looked up and found himself caught in the act of being tender, his face flushed and he looked away, but he made no move to shift Sehun off of him.  Chanyeol tried to keep the smile off his face, but even when he failed he didn’t comment.  Luhan and Sehun had to work it out between themselves, and neither one would welcome any interference. 

Though they’d left relatively early, it was getting dark by the time they reached Busan, and the managers arranged hotel rooms for them.  The next morning they were woken at six, and arrived at the cruise ship just a couple of hours later.  Sehun bounced excitedly, acting more like he was twelve than twenty-one.  Luhan patiently kept an eye on him, and gave off an air of a particularly overwhelmed nanny.  Once they were boarded and settled in, the captain came and greeted them personally, thanking them for agreeing to perform in exchange for the tickets. 

“How else would we ever get a chance to go on a cruise?”  Luhan piped up, animated.  “It’s a small exchange.” 

The captain looked pleased.  “We hope the accommodations are to your liking.  We’ve given you the entire floor, and all the rooms connect via the restrooms.  There is also a large sitting room on this side of the hall,” the Captain gestured to the wall with fewer doors that lined the hall.  “It contains a private mini-theatre and a kitchenette, though if you have need of anything at all, please feel free to contact one of the servers at any time of the day or night.”  He bowed repeatedly, and to Chanyeol, seemed overwhelmed by their presence.  They returned the bow in unison, and were given schedules of all the nights they would be performing, as well as an itinerary of performances by other singers, dancers, even a full play performed by a popular American theatre troupe.  The schedule included the hours of the restaurants on other floors, when the pools would be open, and what ports they would visit along the trip.  Sehun was practically vibrating with excitement, and eventually Luhan led him away.  As if that was the cue, the group broke up again to choose rooms and conversation rose into a dull roar as they all started exclaiming over the various ports of call, the play, and the other forms of entertainment.  The cruise was a decadent, luxurious trip based solely on a reckless hedonistic streak. 

“What do you want to do first?” Chanyeol asked when he and Baekhyun were settled into their room and unpacked.  Baekhyun flopped down on the gigantic bed and rolled around for a moment before answering.

“Sleep!  It’s got to be what, midnight?”

Chanyeol laughed and crawled onto the bed next to him.  “Sure you’re tired?”

Baekhyun gave his wicked smile.  “Not too tired for you.”  He reached for him, and they kissed, among other things. 

 

The trip was relatively uneventful.  They performed two nights the first week, and spent their free time on the various rides, slides, pools, decks, and other forms of entertainment.  Unless they happened to run into the others in the corridors somewhere, Chanyeol and Baekhyun spent most of their time together, alone.  It felt like a honeymoon, and Chanyeol toyed with the idea of asking Baekhyun to make it some sort of permanent arrangement between the two of them.  Not outright marriage – as long as Exo was around, they weren’t allowed to come forward with personal details, and while the country had made enormous steps forward in terms of gay rights, they were still a massive minority.  But more than just boyfriends.  He held off on it, still not quite sure how Baekhyun truly felt.  He knew they were friends – that was something that hadn’t changed.  They still goofed off and played silly games with one another.  Sometimes they slept together, always with Baekhyun on top; Chanyeol wanted to know what it was like, but it wasn’t important to him, and he liked the distinction between their private life and their Club Life. 

Sometimes they locked all the doors to their rooms, and Baekhyun let Chanyeol tie him up, among other things.  They couldn’t get truly adventurous, not on a ship with none of the usual toys or restraints, but Chanyeol just couldn’t help himself when Baekhyun approached him swinging a scarf so suggestively. 

During the second week, they made a stop somewhere in Russia, and more passengers boarded for an abbreviated version of the cruise.  It was then that everything went to hell. 

They were settling down to dinner as a group in one of the large restaurants, when the cabaret singer – that evening’s entertainment – was pushed off the stage by a man wielding a very large gun.  Chanyeol didn’t know much about firearms, but the thing the man held was twice the length of his forearm.  It was bigger than a handgun, and he sprayed bullets into the ceiling to get everyone’s attention.  In heavily-accented English, he addressed the terrified diners.

“We have boarded this ship and are taking all of you hostage,” he explained, almost pleasantly.  “Do not interfere.  Do not be afraid.  We are demanding money from the cruise line now.  As soon as they hand it over, we will disembark and none of you will be harmed.  Please return to your rooms and do not leave them.”  He waved the gun for emphasis.  There was a mad stampede for the doors; how no one was crushed or trampled, Chanyeol didn’t know.  Some of the crew members revealed more of the massive guns, and aided the exodus from the restaurant.  People flooded the hallways, and from their agitated remarks, Chanyeol realised that the terrorists/extortionists/hostage-takers had hit every part of the ship simultaneously, probably with the help of some of the mutinous crew. 

He clung to Baekhyun’s arm, making sure he kept on his feet.  They were all stunned and silent, drifting on the roaring tide of the crowd towards the cabins.  None of the elevators were working, and some of the power was out.  When they reached their floor, Kris herded everyone into the main sitting room. 

“It doesn’t seem like Exo is involved in this,” he said.  “If we just stay here like we were told, we should be okay.”

Chanyeol could feel Baekhyun trembling beside him, and put an arm around his shoulders in an attempt to be comforting.  Baekhyun tolerated it for a moment before throwing him off.  Hurt, Chanyeol retreated slightly. 

“But what are we going to do?” Xiumin’s round face was white, and his eyes were huge.  Beside him, Lay was breathing into a paper bag, trying not to hyperventilate. 

Suho made a downward motion with his hands.  “We do exactly what they said.  Stay here, and stay quiet.” 

Several members spoke at once.  Chanyeol couldn’t make out any individual voices, but his attention was captured almost immediately by the sight of Baekhyun by the window, looking out over the starlit sea.  “We’ve stopped moving,” he announced, sending everyone into fresh peals of anxiety. 

“It could be days!”

“Are we going to starve?”

“Are we going to  _die?_ ”

“Shut up!”  Kris stood up on the coffee table.   Exo fell silent in the face of his bellow, and turned to him in the hopes that he’d have some answers.  “No one is going to die!” he continued.  An uneasy feeling slithered up Chanyeol’s spine, and he frowned.  It wasn’t anything he could have described exactly, not even to himself.  He just had a feeling that something was going to go wrong.

“We have to get off this boat,” Baekhyun said.  “There’s got to be life boats somewhere, right?  Think about it, it’s only not about us because they probably don’t know we’re here yet.  Once they find out, what’s to stop them from taking us hostage, or worse?”

Nine people made a lot of noise when they talked all at once, each of them getting louder as they attempted to be heard over the others.  Only Baekhyun, Kris, and Chanyeol remained silent.  Kris was waiting for them to settle again, but Chanyeol was watching Baekhyun, who had both hands buried in his hair as he contemplated their possible future. 

“No one is going anywhere,” Kris said when the noise died down some.  “We are going to lock the doors, and  _stay here._ ”

Baekhyun shook his head.  “I can’t be in here,” he said.  “I can’t –” he made for the door.  Almost as one, the other members lunged up out of their seats and followed him into the hallway, shouting and talking all at the same time.  Kris was roaring for them to all return to the sitting room.  Suho was yelling at Baekhyun to come back and stop being an idiot.  Sehun was crying quietly, and clinging to an equally quiet Luhan.  And Chanyeol could only watch helplessly as the man he loved walked away from him, into what was certainly the waiting arms of Death.  Panic overtook his rational thought processes.  The words didn’t stop to consult his brain before they hurled themselves out of his mouth.

“ **Starling, _down!_** ”

Baekhyun dropped to his knees instantly, long years of training overcoming even his fear of their situation.  Immediately, Chanyeol wished he could take it back, despite the fact that it momentarily took the other’s minds off what was happening. 

“What did he say?”

Their words were a muted roar in the background, fading out of his hearing as his blood rushed through his ears in a crashing tide.  All he could see was Baekhyun kneeling in the middle of the hallway, no more than thirty yards away, but they might as well have been on different planets for the distance Chanyeol could almost see growing between them.  This went above and beyond stupid.  He’d broken their very first, most important rule.  The hallway swam around him dizzyingly and he couldn’t seem to get any air into his lungs.  

Kris slammed him up against the wall, suddenly bringing him back into focus.  “You  _fucking_  idiot,” Kris snarled, shaking him.  “Have you  _lost_  your goddamned mind?  You  _never_  abuse your control outside of a scene!” 

Chanyeol barely heard him.  The only thing in his mind was the memory of the defeated, unhappy slump to Baekhyun’s shoulders as he knelt in front of all of Exo, forced to the ground by Chanyeol’s command.  Belatedly, he realised Kris was chewing him out over the order.   _But how does he know…?_

Before he could inhale to ask, Kris released him with a disgusted noise.  “Tao, get him out of my sight,” he barked, and stalked towards Baekhyun, who remained where he’d fallen.  Chanyeol watched helplessly as Kris set aside his anger and gently helped Baekhyun up off the floor.  The look the singer shot back at Chanyeol was pure vitriol, fury radiating off him in near-palpable waves.   Chanyeol flinched, physically recoiling from the hatred in Baekhyun’s eyes.  He still had nightmares from the last time Baekhyun had mentioned in passing that he hated him.  This was going to be worse.

Tao lifted him off the floor, despite being shorter.  “Don’t do this now, Chanyeol,” he whispered. 

“Did you see his face?”

Instead of answering him, Tao shouldered some of the other members out of the way.  “Get back into the sitting room,” he snapped.  Distantly, Chanyeol realised he was being lead towards one of the bedrooms, but not his own.  Kris had taken Baekhyun into it; of course he wouldn’t bring Chanyeol there.  Not after the scene he’d just caused.  The other members were still discussing the bizarre sight of Baekhyun submitting to Chanyeol’s order – he was aware that they hadn’t put two and two together yet, or at least weren’t coming up with four. 

“What was that all about?  Will Baekhyun be okay?”

“Better question might be, will  _Chanyeol_  be okay?  Did you see his face?”

“This is so much worse than the last time they fought over something.”

The doors closed between them, cutting him off from hearing anything more.  Chanyeol looked into Tao’s kind, worried face and wished he could cry.  “Why are you always taking care of me when this happens?” he demanded instead as Tao deposited him on one of the large, sweeping beds. 

“When what happens?” Tao moved with the grace of a dancer, or a tiger given human form as he moved around the room, preparing tea.  There was something subtly seductive in the way he walked, an unconscious sway that he didn’t even seem to be aware of. 

“Whenever things fall apart with Baekhyun.”  His breath caught as the reality of his situation sank in all at once.  Things were never going to fall apart with Baekhyun again.  He’d well and truly ruined it.  Permanently.  “He’s not going to forgive me for this,” he murmured, more to himself. 

“He might.  If he settles down and thinks about it.  That’s why Kris is with him; Kris is good at getting people to think.  It’s part of what makes him such a good leader.”

Chanyeol buried his face in his hands.  “No, you don’t understand.  It wasn’t just a simple misunderstanding this time.” 

“Kris will make things better,” Tao said with quiet assurance.  “Its part of what he does.  Don’t worry so much.”  A cup of tea drifted into Chanyeol’s field of vision.  He looked up and realised it was attached to Tao’s hand and the Chinese maknae smiled encouragingly at him.  He absently took the cup, more to make Tao happy than out of any real desire for the drink.  “As to why I’m taking care of you…”  He was silent for a long moment, considering his words.  “It’s nice to be able to take care of someone who needs it,” he said finally.  There was a shadow in his eyes that told Chanyeol he wasn’t telling the whole truth, but the rapper was in no mood to drag it out of him. 

“At least Kris will keep him from leaping off the boat,” Chanyeol said, quietly miserable.  Tao muttered something in Chinese, but instead of pressing, he simply sat down on the bed beside Chanyeol.  When the tea was gone, Chanyeol set the cup aside and watched without truly seeing as Tao picked it up and returned it to the little kitchenette.  He rolled over onto the bed, faced the wall, and tried to sleep.


	20. Breaking Into Pieces

**Chapter Eighteen**

“Is he asleep?”

The words, although soft, penetrated the haze Chanyeol had fallen into.  He recognised the voice as Kris’s, and in a tiny corner of his mind, he was grateful the older man no longer sounded so angry with him.  He still didn’t understand how Kris understood what had happened between Chanyeol and Baekhyun – he clearly remembered the leader yelling at him about it, although no one else knew what he’d been talking about – but with Baekhyun no doubt furious still, he felt he had enough people mad at him. 

Tao’s voice was equally quiet.  “I don’t know.  He hasn’t moved since last night.  I tried waking him up earlier but he didn’t respond.” 

Cloth rustled, and Chanyeol heard the muted thump of footsteps on carpet before feeling someone – likely Kris – touching his shoulder and then shaking him gently.  He rolled over willingly and looked up into Kris’s face, appalled at himself for falling into this state of mind again.  Kris recoiled slightly at his expression, and he wondered vacantly what his face looked like.  “I’m sorry I yelled at you,” Kris said, suddenly awkward. 

Chanyeol blinked at him.  “I deserved it,” he said dully.  “That was probably the stupidest thing I’ve ever done.”   _In my life,_  he added silently.   _In my last ten lifetimes.  My next ten lifetimes will be spent making up for that mistake._

“I know he’s mad right now, but I think you should talk to him.”

Chanyeol snorted.  “Do I look like I’m ready to die?”  He couldn’t seem to get enough air into his lungs at the thought of getting anywhere near Baekhyun.  Kris bit down on a smile and studied him. 

“You need to talk to him as soon as you can.  Apologise.  Beg, grovel, plead.  Get down on your knees.  Whatever you have to do, but don’t let him stay mad at you.”

Chanyeol rolled over again to face the wall.  “Later,” he said.  Kris hovered for a moment before withdrawing.  Chanyeol felt the lack of his body heat intensely.  

 

He slept on and off, mostly unaware of the time passing.  He got out of bed once to use the bathroom around midnight, and noticed that the ship still wasn’t moving.  It made him acutely aware of the problem Baekhyun seemed to be having right before their confrontation, and he ached to go and find out if he was okay.  The thought of what might happen if he did caused his heart to clench in his chest.  On his way back to bed, he saw Tao and Kris curled up together in the other bed and paused to look at them so unguarded.  Tao clung to Kris’s hand, and even in sleep, Kris had wrapped his arm protectively around the maknae.  He wondered vaguely what their relationship was; clearly it was deeper than anyone had ever guessed before. 

He crawled back onto his mattress and wished he could just never wake up again.

Unfortunately, the rising sun came directly in through the window and hit him in the face the next morning.  Chanyeol flinched, stretched, and reached for Baekhyun automatically before memory caught up to him.   _Kris was right,_  he realised.   _I need to go apologise to him._  

The clock said 6:14AM, and he figured few to none of the other members would be awake at this time.  He left Kris and Tao sleeping in the other bed and stepped into the hallway, still wearing the winkled and slept-in clothes he’d been wearing the night of the confrontation.  He heard a thumping noise, and at first was afraid that the terrorists had come to collect them after all.  Then the door to Baekhyun’s room opened and expelled a pile of clothes. 

Chanyeol frowned briefly, then recognised his own belongings.  Baekhyun stood in the doorway panting with the effort; the room behind him was a study in chaos. 

He took a deep breath.  “Baekhy-”

“Don’t talk to me,” Baekhyun snarled.  “You  _asshole._   I hate you  _so much_  that you make me  _sick._ ”  He whirled around and slammed the door behind him.  Chanyeol found himself on the floor with no memory of how he’d gotten there.  He was gulping in air like a fish and still felt like he wasn’t getting enough oxygen into his lungs.  He was only distantly aware of arms around his shoulders, but Baekhyun’s door opening again caught his attention immediately.  The singer threw something brightly coloured to the floor and stomped on it before slamming the door and throwing the deadbolt audibly.  Chanyeol leaned forward and saw the Claim Sarang had made for him on the ground.  It was bent slightly where Baekhyun had stepped on it. 

Feeling like his heart was breaking into pieces, Chanyeol accepted the reality and gathered the Claim up before anyone else could see it.  His head was swimming and the hallway seemed to be pressing in on him.  “I can’t breathe,” he gasped, and threw off the arms that kept trying to hold onto him before bolting for the stairs that lead to the deck.     

 

Alone on the leisure deck, Chanyeol slipped the charm off the velvet cord and put it into his pocket for safekeeping.  He was tempted to throw it into the ocean, but Sarang had put a lot of effort into it; besides, it had good memories for him.  His mind flashed back to the sight of Baekhyun in tiny leather shorts and cat ears.  His heart hurt.

The cord he wrapped twice around his wrist and fastened to make a bracelet.  He couldn’t bring himself to part with something that had been so close to Baekhyun, even as his mind was accepting that he’d ruined his chances once and for all.  He flinched as the cat-memory was followed by a more recent image of Baekhyun shaking with anger, practically spitting the words “I hate you!” out. 

He’d promised Baekhyun that their lives would never cross; the other members would never find out about their club involvement.  He’d shattered that promise so thoroughly that there weren’t even pieces of it left to pick up.  It didn’t matter that no one caught on immediately; they’d think about it, and eventually someone would come to the right conclusion.  He’d also promised Suho that his relationship with Baekhyun wouldn’t interfere with Exo.  It was nearly the only promise that he’d kept so far, and he knew that if he stayed, he’d end up breaking it.  There was no way he and Baekhyun would be able to work together now.  But if he left SM, he’d be breaking the promise anyway.  There had to be another way around it. 

Angry Chinese cursing caught his attention and he turned around to see Tao struggling with what looked like a rope.  Against his will, he laughed.

“Is it winning?”

Tao untangled it from his foot and threw it down, victorious, and shook his head.  “Someone left it in the walkway,” he explained, looking at Chanyeol accusingly.  Chanyeol shrugged; if it had been him, it hadn’t been intentional.  “I was kind of afraid…” Tao started, then trailed off as he realised what he was about to admit. 

“Why does everyone assume I’m suicidal?”

“When you get a huge shock like that and then run off to the side of a boat, of course people assume you’re about to throw yourself into the water.”

Chanyeol shook his head.  “I promised Suho I wouldn’t let it interfere with Exo,” he said.

“News flash, Chanyeol, it’s interfering,” Tao said, uncharacteristically sarcastic.  Chanyeol shook his head.

“Not for long.  But if I threw myself off the side, it would definitely interfere.  It’s the one promise I didn’t end up breaking.  I’m not going to end myself.”  He took a deep breath and was surprised to find he could.  “I just... inside, I couldn’t breathe.”  It still felt like he’d been stabbed through the chest but at least his lungs seemed to be working better.

Tao stepped close and hugged him from behind.  The simple act was immensely comforting.  “Come back inside and let’s get something to eat,” Tao said.  Chanyeol shook his head.

“I’m not hungry,” he denied, but he didn’t object when Tao took his hand and lead him back inside.  Someone had picked up the pile of his clothes – making him grateful he’d collected the Claim before anyone else saw it – and Baekhyun’s door was still shut tight.  Tao lead him straight past it back into the room he and Kris were sharing.  No one else was visible in the hall.  Chanyeol took himself right back to the bed and laid down facing the wall again.  He just felt tired.

“Wake up!”  Kris was yelling at him again.  Chanyeol jumped, immediately awake and looked around. 

“What?”

Kris relaxed.  “You sleep like the dead.  Do you want something to eat?” 

Tao popped up from behind him.  “The terrorists left; the police came.  You missed an exciting day.  Would you like some tea?”

“Is Baekhyun okay?”

Kris nodded once. 

Chanyeol gave a small smile.  “I’m really not hungry,” he said, and he wasn’t.  It felt like there was a lump of stone in his stomach and he couldn’t imagine forcing food down on top of it.   “Tea would be okay,” he added in Tao’s direction.  He would have preferred coffee, but he’d take what he could get.  Kris scowled at him, but Tao smiled brightly and ducked away to prepare the tea.  “So what actually happened today?”  He was disappointed he’d missed the excitement, but at the same time, he didn’t really feel up to dealing with it, either.               

“Someone managed to make a phone call off the ship and alerted the police.  The terrorists were able to collect the money they wanted, though, and used a helicopter to get away before the authorities got here.  There’s a massive search going on in China for them, but on the ship, no one was hurt.  A lot of people are panicking, and they’re offering to turn for land immediately.  We’ve all got free cruises for life, so something good came of the whole thing.”  Kris was staring hard at him, and Chanyeol felt like his every thought was on display.  “I still can’t believe you said –”

“Here you are!  Are you sure you don’t want some sandwiches or something?”  Tao appeared behind Kris with a mug of tea in his hand.  Chanyeol was grateful for his timing; he didn’t want to know what Kris was about to say.  He accepted the tea and drank a little of it, watching silently as Tao and Kris convened on the other side of the room.  As soon as their attention was off him, he set the tea down and rolled back over to face the wall and wondered if it was possible to never get out of bed again.  He ignored them when they came and talked to him again, and gradually the voices faded away altogether.

 


	21. Now The Party's Over (Baekhyun Interlude)

**Chapter Nineteen: Baekhyun Interlude**

When the singer was literally pushed from the stage by a gun-wielding man in a formal suit, Baekhyun felt his heart stop dead in his chest.  From the time he was small, he’d had an unreasonable fear of being kidnapped that no one could explain.  His parents told him he’d never been taken, or even attempted – they usually tried to lighten the mood by joking that no one would want him, and even if they abducted him they’d be bringing him back within a day or two either way – but that he’d simply walked up to them one day when he was around five or six years old, and announced a petrifying fear of being kidnapped. 

It stayed with him his whole life and only seemed to get worse once he debuted with Exo because now he was a public figure, constantly in the eyes of the public.  People went crazy over celebrities all the time.  It wasn’t a constant fear, but it bothered him sometimes when he thought about it.

And now it seemed to be actually happening.  Practically unable to breathe past the icy lump of terror that had taken up residence in his chest, he was grateful when Chanyeol asked him no questions and simply assisted him through the stairways and halls that lead back to their rooms.  Kris convened them in the largest entertainment room and began pacing while the others took up positions on the furniture.  Baekhyun could sense that he was mere minutes away from a full-blown panic attack.  Chanyeol put his arm around his shoulders, and for a moment Baekhyun basked in the love and support from his partner and friend.  Then the walls felt like they were closing in, and the confinement of Chanyeol’s embrace was making everything worse.  He barely noticed as Chanyeol scooted a few inches away, only thinking distantly that he was grateful for the space. 

He could see the other members reacting with similar emotions.  Lay was visibly having the worst trouble, but Suho and Chen flanked him, offering support.  The whole room seemed smaller suddenly, and Baekhyun repositioned himself to the nearest window so that he could look out and  _know_  that there was enough space. 

It was then that it occurred to him that the ship wasn’t moving forward.  Every other time he’d looked out the window, he could see the distant shore moving slowly as they ploughed their way through the waves.  He could make out the far-away lights clearly in the darkness; the ship was stationary.  “We’ve stopped moving,” he said, more to himself as if to validate the conclusion.  Some of the members rushed to the window and verified it for themselves before the freaking-out took on new dimensions. 

Panic took hold of Baekhyun like a vice.  It settled around his shoulders, tightened his skull around his brain, and squeezed the breath right out of his lungs.  The only thing he could think about was getting away – before something  _worse_  happened.

“We have to get off this boat,” he said, nearly hyperventilating.   All he could see in his mind was the terrorists checking one of the itinerary lists and seeing Exo’s names – all twelve of them, what a prize! – and coming for them.  It was his worst nightmare and it looked fit to come true.  Terror was a physical thing sitting on his chest, and the words bubbled out of him without his brain’s input.  He fell against the large window and tightened his hands in his hair, suddenly aware that he was making things worse.   _I have to get ahold of myself,_  he thought, but the fear was overwhelming. 

Kris’s voice penetrated the haze.  “We are going to lock the doors and  _stay here,_ ” he ordered.  Suho stepped up and seconded it, just in case. 

Baekhyun lost his mind.  “I can’t be in here,” he said, and made for the door.  The words throbbed in his brain in time with his heart:  _get out! Get out!  Get out!_   He was aware without noticing that the other members were following him. 

“Everyone back in the room!” Kris was bellowing.  The words didn’t penetrate. 

He heard Suho as though there was a great distance between them when he yelled, “Baekhyun, don’t be an idiot!  Get back here!”

And then a well-known voice saying familiar words.  “Starling,  _down!_ ”

He went down before he thought about it, the ingrained habit to obey overwhelming even his panic.  It was, he reflected, probably the only thing that could have stopped him.  He immediately felt calmer – he’d been given an order and he’d obeyed it.  He’d done well. 

“What did he say?”  Sehun’s voice was loud and clear in the sudden peace inside Baekhyun’s mind.  He immediately realised what was wrong with that sentence, however.  Ice cold fury washed the last of the panic right out of his system as he realised Chanyeol had ordered him down – as a  _sub_  – right in front of  _all of Exo._   His secret was  _out._   A deep sense of betrayal fought the fury and won, pushing it down.  He wanted to collapse to the floor and maybe kick his feet and scream.  He was almost dizzy between the rampaging emotions that flooded through him. 

Behind him, he heard Kris yelling at Chanyeol.  Kris had some idea of his involvement; the entire story had spilled out the night Sarang had orchestrated things so Chanyeol was to be his dom without informing either of them; one of their many fights.  Gradually, the rage bubbled over, becoming an elemental force inside his body.  The fact that  _Kris_  had to remind Chanyeol of his duties as a dom was  _sickening._  

“Tao, get him out of my sight!” Kris’s words practically echoed through the hallway.  Baekhyun knew he was coming and tried to get himself under control.  He’d vacillated so wildly in the last five minutes that he was falling into the beginning stages of exhaustion.  “Are you okay?”  The Chinese leader’s voice was soft and gentle, vastly different from the tone he’d used with Chanyeol.   _Good,_  Baekhyun thought.   _Someone needs to knock some sense into him._   If it was him, he wasn’t entirely sure he would be able to stop. 

“I’m working on it,” Baekhyun said in reply to Kris’s question.  Kris helped him up, and as he turned, he saw Chanyeol on the floor, a devastated expression on his face.  It brought everything right back up to the front of his mind and he felt his expression twist in a physical display of his internal turmoil.  Chanyeol met his eyes and then jerked back, face white.  He watched as Tao reached down to pick Chanyeol up and then there was a door between them and Baekhyun’s sight was cut off. 

Kris locked the door and stood in front of it with his arms crossed over his chest.  “Would you like to explain to me what just happened out there?”

Tears welled up in his eyes even as his lip curled.  “Chanyeol broke his promise.  What do you think happened?”

Kris loomed.  “Do  _not_  play games with me right now,” he snarled.  “We’ve all had a very stressful evening and I do  _not_  need you adding to it!”

A direct order, even from someone he hadn’t officially recognised as ‘dominant.’  He couldn’t refuse it.  “I’m sorry,” he said, and dropped to the floor, his knees pulled up around his chest.  He put his arms around his legs and tried to organise his thoughts.  “Where do I start?  I’ve always been afraid of that,” he said, answering his own rhetorical question.  “Being kidnapped.  It’s all I could think of.  I panicked.  I’m sorry,” he repeated. 

Kris dropped down beside him and drew him into an embrace.  “It happens, it’s okay.  So you and Chanyeol promised, what?”

Baekhyun growled under his breath.  “He promised – he  _swore_  – that it wasn’t a lifestyle.  That he wouldn’t treat me like a sub unless we agreed on it before.  If we both go to the club, it’s a given.  I can accept that.  Here, with Exo – it has nothing to do with it.  But he might as well have told everyone that I’m a freak and I get off on being told what to do!”

Kris shushed him.  “What are you even talking about?  No one even understood what happened.  All they saw was Chanyeol yelling at you, and you kneeling.  Something like the scene – that’s outside their experience.  They won’t connect it to anything.  And Baekhyun, look at me.”

Baekhyun stared hard at the floor, wishing that he could sink right through the carpet.  Kris’s hand came up and tilted his chin until their eyes met. 

“I said look at me,” Kris repeated, fiercely.  “You are  _not_  a freak.  Do you understand me?  There is  _nothing_  freakish about what you do.”

Baekhyun snorted.  “You don’t even know,” he began, but the look in Kris’s eyes cut him off before he could finish the thought.  He swallowed, suddenly afraid to be in the same room with the tall leader. 

“I know more than you seem to think I do.  Give me some credit.”  His eyes narrowed.  “Now repeat after me:  ‘I am not a freak.  There is nothing wrong with me.’”

Baekhyun snorted again.  “I’m not saying that.”

“Say it!”

Cowed, he repeated the words.  Something inside him eased as he realised that he almost believed it. 

“Now talk to me for a minute.  How do you feel about Chanyeol?”

The calm evaporated.  “Fuck him!  He’s been nothing but a headache to me ever since he followed me to the Club.  It was nice for a while, but this – this was  _too much._ ”

Kris raised a brow, a sardonic expression on his face.  “Okay, now think back to about an hour ago, before everything went to hell in a handbasket.  How did you feel about him then?”

He did as instructed, and tried to remember how he’d felt, laughing over their dinner together.  The memory of Chanyeol’s smiling face contrasted sharply with the horrified expression Baekhyun had last seen on him.  “Happy,” he admitted, feeling sullen.  “I was happy with him.”

“Did you think Chanyeol was a freak before?”

“What?  No!”

“He gets off on being told what to do.  You said he subbed for Sarang before he started training to … dom.”

Baekhyun’s mouth opened as he tried to reply to that statement, and then words abandoned him.  Kris was absolutely right.  It didn’t change anything about Chanyeol ordering him down to stop him from leaving, but suddenly a knot of tension unfurled from his shoulders.  “So that doesn’t make me a freak,” he admitted.  “But it doesn’t matter.   _You_  wouldn’t have given in to an order like that.  Not in front of everybody.”

Kris chuckled.  “No,” he said.  “But I’m not a sub.  On one hand, if you look at it right, it could be a good thing.”

“What could possibly be good about that?”

“You’re a good sub,” Kris said.  Baekhyun flushed, pleased in spite of himself.  “You said it yourself, you were having a panic attack, and he broke you out of it.  I promise no one’s going to figure it out.”

The rest of the fury drained out of him, leaving him exhausted and wrung out.  “You’re right.  I’m sorry for causing a scene.”  He scowled and climbed back to his feet before turning to help Kris up off the floor.  “It doesn’t change the fact that he broke his promise.”

“Be mad at him later.  Get some sleep for now.  I’m going to stay here with you; no one should be alone tonight, just in case something happens.  Worry about everything tomorrow.”

 

Kris was gone when he woke up, but the pillow on the other bed was still warm when Baekhyun felt it and he knew the leader had left only minutes before he crawled out of bed.  He showered and dressed, and met the others in the sitting room on the other side of the hall.  There was no sign of Tao or Chanyeol, and Baekhyun felt a touch of annoyance.  It seemed like Chanyeol was avoiding him.  He didn’t see either of them all day, and spent the entire time fuming quietly to himself. 

After talking to Kris, he was willing to talk to Chanyeol.  He thought they might need to take a break from the BDSM scene, and perhaps even each other, but the longer he went without actually speaking to the rapper, the angrier he got over the whole ordeal.  He spent a sleepless night with Chen in the other bed because Kris had returned to Tao, though he’d checked in on Baekhyun and asked if there was anything he wanted or needed.  Baekhyun hated feeling like an invalid, but he was grateful for the thought.  Chanyeol hadn’t even come near him.  As quietly as he could, he collected Chanyeol’s things from around the room, intending to bring them to Kris or Suho to give back to him whenever they saw him.  Their things were so intertwined that it looked like a tornado had passed through the room when he was done. 

When he stepped out of the room, he saw Chanyeol standing in the hallway and looking like a lost little kid.  The sight of him after two full days of nothing pissed him off and brought the emotions of the other night screaming back to the forefront.  He threw the clothes down on the floor, suddenly furious all over again.  How  _dare_  he ignore Baekhyun for  _two days_  and then just come crawling back like nothing was wrong? 

“Baekhy-” he started to say, but Baekhyun had had two days to think about this, and cut him off. 

“Don’t talk to me, you  _asshole,_ ” he said, and startled himself with the venom in his own voice.  Then his mouth got carried away and kept going.  “I hate you  _so much_  that you make me  _sick._ ” 

Chanyeol looked like someone had punched him in the stomach.  Baekhyun felt a dark satisfaction at his expression, and then remembered something else he’d forgotten.  He found Chen sitting up in the spare bed, hair sleep-mussed, and thought for a moment that he was cute.  Then he felt guilty for looking at other people when Chanyeol was his boyfriend, and then remembered that they were  _over._   If he wanted, he could even crawl into bed with Chen right then and there.  He didn’t think Chen would appreciate it, and he continued on his original objective, retrieving Chanyeol’s Claim necklace from his suitcase.  He hadn’t been able to bring himself to leave it behind, even if he hadn’t been able to bring himself to actually wear it, either. 

He yanked the door open violently, startling Chen, and threw the Claim to the ground before stepping on it.   _Break your promises to someone else,_  he thought forcefully in Chanyeol’s direction.  He glanced up and saw Chanyeol on the ground, one hand on his chest, with Tao curled around him like a cat.  A second sense of betrayal washed through him.

 _Is he sleeping with Tao?  Is that why Kris left them together that night?_  

He slammed the bedroom door behind him and threw the lock violently.  Chen, still in bed, jumped. 

“Um, good morning,” he said nervously.  Baekhyun glared at him.

“Fuck.   _Everyone._ ”

Chen slowly slid out of the bed and disappeared through the bathroom into the next room. 

 

The hostage-takers/terrorists fled the ship on a helicopter just half an hour before the coast guard and Russian police arrived.  Some of the passengers were taken off and sent to hospitals to be treated for severe panic attacks, and at least one minor heart attack in the wake of the ordeal.  Statements were given by all of the passengers, and Baekhyun was glad he wasn’t in charge.  Neither Tao nor Chanyeol appeared to give statements, which only reinforced his belief that they were together. 

It was a constant battle between fury and jealousy, with one minute leaving him blinded and breathless with rage, and in the next, he wanted to curl up and cry like a little girl.  He also found himself wanting to do serious harm to Tao for the first time ever, and he was shocked and surprised by the urge.  Several times he found himself nearly getting up to go confront them over it, but each time he pictured himself throwing a punch and then Tao – Wushu trained and probably deadly with it if he employed it properly – beating the crap out of him, followed by Kris who would inevitably get involved.  The entire group was silent and withdrawn on the flight back to Korea, the remainder of the cruise aborted by the extortion attempt.  News of the international manhunt was all over the televisions.

The managers called a meeting in order to discuss Exo’s experiences on the cruise and perhaps decide what to say if they arranged a press conference.  Although Chanyeol had been avoiding everyone but Tao, and by extension, Kris, he surprised them all when he went into the office alone to speak with the managers. 

The rest of Exo were scattered around the waiting room.  It felt like the wake of a funeral as they all sat silently, avoiding each other’s eyes until Chanyeol reappeared. 

“Kris, Suho,” he said.  “They want to talk to you.”  He made his way to a vacant seat and pulled his legs up to his chest, looking like a little kid.  Baekhyun ached to go to him, but the memory of Chanyeol outing him to everyone on the ship was still hot and fresh.  He scowled instead. 

Before long, the two leaders emerged. They were immediately jumped on as everyone wanted to know what the managers had discussed, but both leaders remained stubbornly mute.  Kris raised his voice only once.

“Luhan, they need you now.” 

With the private conferences growing, conversation swelled.  Baekhyun heard Kai and Kyungsoo asking Lay and Tao whether or not they’d all be interviewed separately, and if not, what was the point of the meetings.  Baekhyun ignored them in favour of watching Chanyeol, who might as well have turned into a statue.  He hadn’t moved at all since coming out and sitting down; Baekhyun could barely see that he was breathing.  

Despite himself, he was concerned. 


	22. A Temporary Solution

**Chapter Twenty**

Chanyeol ignored everyone equally.  He only at small amounts, enough to keep him going, because he had no taste for the food.  Nothing Tao suggested sounded appetizing, and some things turned his stomach outright.  He was living on teas, it seemed like, and Kris was beginning to lose patience. 

“You should have talked to him,” he said in the van on the way to the manager’s office.  “I told you not to let him stay mad at you and you slept for two days and  _now_  look where you are!  Miserable!”

Chanyeol flinched, but could find no way to counter the argument.  Kris heaved a sigh and withdrew, turning so he could look out the window.  Chanyeol sighed.  He’d been thinking about it the whole time, and had come to a single conclusion: he needed to get out of Exo-K.  But he also couldn’t leave SM altogether, because that would be breaking his promise to Suho.  He was pretty sure he had a solution, and when they arrived at the manager’s offices, he begged for a private discussion. 

As soon as the door closed behind him, he dropped to his knees and bent so that his forehead touched the ground.

“You probably know I’ve been having some trouble with Exo-K,” he began. 

“What are you getting at?”

“I’d like to switch to Exo-M.”  There, it was out.  Then he had a flash of inspiration, and hoped that someone would be grateful for this.  “If you want to keep the numbers even, you could send Luhan to Exo-K.  I think he’d do the best.”   With the idea finally in the air between them, he fell silent and waited.

The two managers conferred quietly, their voices so low he couldn’t even make them out from across the room. 

Finally they turned back to him.  “As a temporary solution, this has merit,” one of them said.  Chanyeol couldn’t bring himself to look up and find out which one. 

“We can announce it with the press conference about the failed cruise, and tell people it’s to promote cultural awareness and unity between the two teams.”

“I think a short term – no more than six months – should be sufficient, if everyone agrees,” the other manager said.  “Please send in Suho and Kris.”

Knowing himself dismissed, Chanyeol stayed where he was a moment longer, then rose to his feet and left the room.  All of Exo was gathered in the sitting room just outside the office.  Chanyeol indicated Kris and Suho that they were wanted in the office, and claimed a seat on the couch.  His chest was hurting so badly, he wondered if he was having a heart attack.  He felt like he couldn’t breathe again, and was barely aware of the two leaders sending Luhan into the office.  When it sank in, he realised that his solution was being implemented, and that the leaders must have agreed to swap Chanyeol with Luhan.

Then he realised that if he was going to go spend six months in China, he’d need to learn Chinese.  The immensity of what he was doing struck him as slightly funny, but it took his mind off of – other things.  At least Luhan already spoke Korean fairly fluently.   And it would make Sehun happy.  That was the most important part.   _Someone_  would benefit from the whole ordeal. 

Luhan bounced out of the office to a round of curious voices.  Chanyeol looked up long enough to see him smiling broadly as he seated himself next to Sehun, who was poking at him to reveal what that had all been about.  He met Kris’s eyes, but none of them said anything.

 

Chanyeol stepped off the plane and followed the rest of Exo-M down into the terminal.  A wave of Chinese washed over him, so many people speaking at once that it was an incomprehensible roar.  He looked helplessly up at the signs and couldn’t make heads or tails of them.  Kris turned back and saw him, then waited for him to catch up.

“You chose this,” he reminded the younger rapper. 

“I know.”

“Speak Chinese,” Kris said, and then rattled off a string of nonsense words.  Chanyeol blinked helplessly.  When Kris spoke slower, he realised the leader was asking if he was hungry.  He searched his mind for the rudimentary Mandarin he’d picked up in the last week or so.

“Food want not,” he said, haltingly.  Kris raised an eyebrow, but let it go. 

 

Two weeks into his stay with Exo-M, Chanyeol was beginning to settle into a routine with the other members.  It was completely different from living with Exo-K – in the first place, he missed Baekhyun every morning when he woke up and saw Chen in the other bed, and every night when he laid down alone, and every time something reminded him of the singer.  Each reminder that he was alone because of his own stupidity left him gasping for air. 

Kris dragged him to the company doctor who lived and worked just a few floors down in the massive apartment building, and translated for them because the doctor spoke no Korean, and Chanyeol’s Mandarin was still at the baby-talk level. 

“It comes on without warning,” he was saying.  The doctor was listening to his lungs as he breathed and spoke.  “It feels like my throat closes up and my lungs aren’t filling.  I just can’t breathe.  My chest hurts, too.”

Kris translated it, and the doctor made some noncommittal noises, checking a chart.  A television in the small room switched to a news story update on the manhunt, and a picture of Exo flashed up on the screen as they were mentioned in the attack.  Chanyeol gasped for breath as another episode stole over him.  The doctor looked at the screen, looked at him, and listened to his stethoscope again before speaking in rapid Mandarin.

Kris spoke for him in Korean.  “He says what you describe is similar to asthma, but he can’t detect any of the usual signs.  Since you’re having an attack right now, he’s going to try a breathing treatment and see if that helps.” 

The doctor picked up a phone and spoke, and then a nurse rolled a strange looking machine into the room.  The mouthpiece fit over his nose and mouth, and it made an unholy noise when it was turned on.  He was expecting  _something_  to happen, and was almost startled when nothing happened. 

The doctor spoke.  “Is it helping?” Kris translated.

Chanyeol shook his head.  “Not at all,” he said, practically yelling to be heard over the machine.  He knew the fit would pass sooner or later, but he’d been hoping that the doctor would be able to do something for him.  Kris spoke again. 

“He’s going to try a different medication,” he said, and the doctor turned the machine off.  The room was deafeningly silent in the wake of the noise.  He pulled a flap open and withdrew a packet, tossing it into the trash before inserting a new one.  This time when the machine came on, Chanyeol was more prepared for the sound of it.  Whatever was in the new packet eased the tension in his chest and almost immediately, he found himself able to breathe again. 

The doctor left him with the machine for a moment, and then babbled something before leaving the room.  Kris leaned over and turned the machine off.

“He’s going to order some x-rays,” he said.  Chanyeol was alarmed.

“What?  Why?”

“He couldn’t hear anything in the stethoscope, but the placebo didn’t work.  The medicine did, so he wants to find out what’s wrong.”

Chanyeol absorbed the news in silence.  Before too much longer, the doctor had returned and Chanyeol was taken to a new room.  Afterward, the doctor was shaking his head. 

“He can’t find anything wrong with you,” Kris said for him when he was done.  He looked worried, but waited for the doctor to continue.  “But since the medicine worked, he’s going to prescribe a sort of emergency inhaler.” 

The pharmacist instructed them on its use when they filled the prescription, and Chanyeol’s lips twisted.  “This is just wonderful.  I come here to recover and end up with a mystery disease.”

“It’s not a disease,” Kris argued.  “It’s nothing at all.  None of the doctors know what’s wrong with you.” 

They knew because all of the other doctors and interns the man seeing Chanyeol had drawn in could draw no conclusions either.  They didn’t understand why the medicine worked when there didn’t seem to be anything wrong with him, but Kris had explained – after listening to what the doctors had to say – that they tried a harmless substance first because often a person complaining of an ailment saw something being done with the machine and cured themselves on the belief that they were being treated.  But it had had no effect on Chanyeol, until the real treatment was substituted.  They didn’t know why the medicine worked.  It just did.  Chanyeol was just grateful that it wouldn’t be an issue any more. 

In the elevator on the way back to the dorm, Chanyeol took a deep breath.  “You know… something,” he started, deeply uncomfortable with what he was about to ask. 

Kris cocked an eyebrow.  “I know a lot of things.  What are you getting at?”

“About the club – and Baekhyun.  And me.”

“Yes.”

Chanyeol waited, but Kris went silent after the one syllable.  He took another deep breath, and felt his chest start to twinge.  His fingers clamped around the bag containing his new inhaler.  “Is there anything similar… here?”

The doors opened, and Kris paused in the middle of stepping through them.  “You want to go back to that?  Didn’t it start the … problems … with Baekhyun?”

“Baekhyun’s not here,” Chanyeol said savagely.  “This has nothing to do with him.”

They stepped into the empty hallway.  Kris stood back and studied Chanyeol carefully. 

“There are a few,” he said, noncommittally. 

 

He found one of them, aided by Tao and without Kris’s knowledge.  They both knew Kris didn’t feel comfortable with discussing it with him, and Chanyeol was hesitant to go back to him for advice.  Tao, on the other hand, understood immediately.  He even had advice.

“Do not visit this one,” Tao said in slow Mandarin.  Chanyeol had been with them almost a month, and he was steadily progressing with speech and understanding even if he couldn’t read or write anything.  “They are bad people.”

“Bad people,” Chanyeol agreed, and crossed the club off his mental list.  They were sitting on Chanyeol’s bed while Chen and Kris were out shopping with Lay.  Xiumin was in the living room watching TV.  Tao’s laptop was open to an internet search of clubs – something so easy, Chanyeol couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought of it himself.  “How know you so much?”

“How do you know so much,” Tao corrected him, and then corrected his pronunciation when he said it wrong a second time.  “I just learned,” he said evasively.  Chanyeol let it go, but it simmered in the back of his mind. 

Living with them proved conclusively that Tao and Kris were in some kind of relationship, but they were never overt about it.  There was nothing in their actions that gave it away; it was more in the way they looked at each other, especially when no one else was looking at them.  It was in the way Tao’s body always turned ever-so-slightly to follow Kris no matter what he was doing, and the way Kris’s head came up and his eyes found Tao the minute the maknae entered a room.  They were just  _aware_  of each other at all times, and Chanyeol, who felt like he was missing a part of his soul, was aware of them both.  Their friendship smoothed out some of the ragged edges inside of him, but only the smiling power-house of a singer in Exo-K would completely fill the hole.

And Chanyeol had no reason to expect that would ever happen.  His chest throbbed, and he fumbled for his inhaler.  Tao gave him a sympathetic look, but Chanyeol couldn’t handle too much of it.  Tao had his most important person there in his life, every day. 

“What this one?” Chanyeol asked, pointing to the next one down on the list.  Tao brightened. 

“There are good people here,” he said.  “Nice and friendly.  Easy for beginners.”

“I not begin,” Chanyeol said, indignant, and then switched to Korean just because it was easier.  “I’m hardly new at it.  I’ve been going to SiyahSarang’s for months.”

“Chinese,” Tao chided him.  “But I’m sure it’s not the same.  Things will be different here.  You’ll see.”

“Happy am,” Chanyeol said, his expression turning to a pout.  “Want things different.”

Tao rolled his eyes.  “I know you can speak better than that.”

“ _I want_  things different,” Chanyeol said again, rolling his eyes right back. 

 

Two days later, before he even had a chance to find the club they’d agreed would be the best of a bad lot, someone knocked unexpectedly on the door. 

“I get it!” Chanyeol said, and bounced off the couch.  He’d been watching a movie in Mandarin and was pleased that he was able to follow the plot even without subtitles.  Kris insisted that the fastest way for him to learn Mandarin was constant exposure.  It had been a relaxing, pleasant day, and he was in a good mood.  He pulled open the door with a wide, welcoming smile on his face.  When he saw who was on the other side, it felt like he fell straight down into a void, as though the floor had simply ceased to exist beneath him.  His chest tightened and his throat closed, and the smile froze on his face, becoming a caricature.

Baekhyun managed a weak grin.  “Hello,” he said.  Chanyeol fled. 

 

They were speaking in Korean, because most of Exo-K didn’t speak enough Mandarin for everyone to be understood.  Chanyeol lurked on the edges of the group and listened to the others laughing and catching up.  Even Baekhyun got involved, and Chanyeol was alternately torn between a soul-deep pleasure that Baekhyun was doing well without him, and a wrenching pain because of the same reason.  It just didn’t seem fair that Baekhyun should be perfectly fine when Chanyeol’s entire life was crashing down around his ears.  When everyone seemed suitably distracted, he slipped out the door and flagged down a taxi to take him to the club. 

It was almost shocking how different it was from Sarang’s.  Chanyeol didn’t realise how much he’d been expecting it to be a carbon copy until he stepped through the door.  The lighting was even dimmer than Sarang’s, and there was no doorman waiting to screen newbies.  Neon lights and lasers flashed through smoke and artificial fog, and instead of raised stages there were just cordoned off sections.  It did include a bar, but the man behind the counter looked so forbidding that Chanyeol was afraid to go near him. 

The only thing raised in the club was a massive couch, upon which a well-muscled man – obviously a dom – was seated, surrounded by pretty girls wearing collars and nothing else. 

“It’s rude to stare,” a woman said harshly.  “Subs walk with their eyes down.”

“Y-yes,” Chanyeol said, lowering his eyes.  To his surprise, she struck him.

“Do not speak unless explicit permission is given.  And you have a weird accent.  Where are you from?  Are you Claimed?”  Chanyeol debated on whether or not to answer, and half expected her to hit him again when the silence stretched.  Instead, she laughed.  “You learn quickly.  You may speak.”

“From South Korea,” he said.  “Not speak well.  Not Claimed.  Not here.”  He withdrew his old Claim from Sarang out of his pocket and offered it to her.  She gasped.

“This is Sarang’s Claim.  You know Sarang?”

Chanyeol was just as startled.  “ _You_  know Sarang?”

“He comes here sometimes.”  She took him by the wrist and half-led, half-dragged him up to the raised couch and pushed Chanyeol down to his knees.  The treatment was rough – Sarang would never have been so physical.  But it felt good.  He’d destroyed not only his most precious relationship, but also his friendship with Baekhyun over the club scene; it was only right that the club scene offer punishment to him.  He didn’t want to be coddled.  “Airen, this is –” the Lady Dom peered at the Claim and struggled with the English letters.  “Liebe,” she said finally, mangling it. 

Chanyeol corrected her pronunciation and received another smack – this time with a short whip across his back.  It flamed into pain, and he hissed between his teeth but didn’t object.  This was what he’d come for. 

“Liebe,” she repeated, getting it right on the second try.  “He came from Sarang’s in Seoul, but he has no Claim here.”

The dom rose to his feet, scattering his subs.  All Chanyeol could see of him was thick-soled boots and leather pants with lacing up the sides.  One foot came up and pushed his shoulder until he fell back onto the floor.  It was hard wood – for a moment, Chanyeol missed the soft, plush carpet of SiyahSarang’s – and he didn’t know what was expected of him.  He lay there passively while the man inspected him. 

“I’ll take him,” he said finally.  “Thank you, Leydim.  Liebe, come with me.”  

Scrambling to his feet, Chanyeol was hard pressed to keep up while still remembering to lower his eyes and still keep the dom in sight.  They reached a private office, and Chanyeol found himself undergoing much the same interview as he’d had with Sarang. 

“Are you really a sub?”

Chanyeol was taken off-guard by the perceptive question.  “Trained as dom,” he said.  “With Sarang.”

“Why are you switching?”

“Started as sub,” he replied.  “Need it back.”

The dom was silent for a while.  “I think I see.  What are your safe-words?”

Chanyeol shrugged.  “Sarang taught ‘red’ and ‘yellow.’  Are those wrong?”

“They’ll do.  Do you want to start tonight?  This is usually by appointment only, but my scheduled sub got sick instead.” 

Did he want to start all over again?  A better question might have been, could he stand to wait five more months until he went back to Korea?  “Yes, tonight, please.”

“Strip.”

Chanyeol peeled his clothes off, and was surprised when the dom gathered them up and put them in an empty locker.

“Doms come dressed in whatever they want; subs wear nothing.  You can keep Sarang’s Claim.  It’ll keep people from hassling you.  This office is locked at all times, but I still suggest you bring nothing valuable with you; accidents do happen.”

It was already different.  He felt denigrated, and wasn’t entirely sure if this was going to be a good idea. 

“First time is free.  Next time the usual fee is fourty.  Do you understand?”

Chanyeol nodded, fastening Sarang’s Claim around his throat.  He hated being naked, but the club was dark enough that he doubted it’d make a difference.  The dom escorted him back onto the floor, and wasted no time in tying him up, hoisting him by his wrists from ropes hanging down from the ceiling.  They were pulled so tight that he was left on his tip-toes and swaying for balance. 

The first strike made him cry out in surprise, but he took the subsequent blows in silence and earned praise from the new dom.  There was no pleasure associated in it; he’d said in the interview he wasn’t there to get off, and the dom got off on the act of administering punishment.   Almost immediately, he sank into a dark place in his head.  It washed his mind clean of memories and thoughts and all the pain he’d been carrying around. 

When he was done and the dom was lowering him to the ground, he felt cleaner than he’d been in weeks.  His back was awash in fire, and he knew it wasn’t going to get any easier.  But his heart was lighter.  He thanked the dom, who went by the stage name  _‘Airen’_  and was a very pleasant man outside of a scene, dressed, and left. 

When he made it back into the dorm, everything was dark and all the other members were asleep.  He fell into bed and for the first time since the incident on the cruise ship, slept deeply all through the night.


	23. The Arrangement

**Chapter Twenty One – Baekhyun Interlude**

They announced the decision that night over dinner.  Luhan would be coming to stay for six months with Exo-K in an effort to promote unity, and in exchange, Chanyeol would take his place in Exo-M.  They all knew it was just a pretense, and that the real reason was Chanyeol and Baekhyun’s  _issues._

But Sehun looked so overwhelmingly pleased at the news, and even Luhan was smiling and happy, that none of the older members could deny them.  And so, within the week, Luhan went back to Exo-K’s dorm, and Chanyeol flew back to China with the rest of Exo-M.  Baekhyun couldn’t believe what a difference it made, not having Chanyeol there.  He had been living under a constant cloud of irritation that sometimes billowed up into outright anger at the way Chanyeol had treated him, and when he thought about it, he became aggravated at himself for treating Chanyeol just as badly.  But he’d never imagined that Chanyeol would  _flee the country_  in order to get away from him.

Making things worse, Luhan and Sehun were constantly together.  Suho moved in with Baekhyun so that Sehun could be with Luhan even when they slept.  It was almost possible to watch their relationship blossoming, even as Baekhyun’s life was withering on the vine.  It made him even bitterer, and got so bad that the others stopped inviting him out with them, and he took to spending most of his time in his room. 

About two weeks into the separation, Baekhyun got over himself by main force, and deliberated started hanging out with the others again.  It wasn’t too much longer before he found himself whining. 

“I wonder what Exo-M is up to…?”

Luhan laughed.  “Probably trying to teach Chanyeol to speak Mandarin.  It’s not exactly easy to learn.” 

Baekhyun’s face twisted as he tried to imagine how Chanyeol was doing in China.  Did he miss Exo-K?  Did he think about Baekhyun as often as Baekhyun thought about him?  He was seriously beginning to regret their fight.

“I just miss him,” he said, a few days later.  Suho clapped him on the shoulder supportively, but shrugged.

“There’s nothing any of us can do.  This arrangement is for six months.”

Time marched on, agonizingly slow. 

“What if he gets sick?  You know he doesn’t take care of himself,” Baekhyun said, out of the blue one day.  Luhan raised an eyebrow.

“What?”

“Chanyeol.  He gets into moods and he doesn’t take care of himself.”

Luhan shook his head and went back to his tablet.   “Kris will take care of him,” he muttered distractedly.

Baekhyun glowered.  “And Tao,” he snarled.  His tone drew Luhan’s attention back to him.

“What are you even talking about?  Tao’s with Kris.  Always has been.”

One of his nightmares shattered into pieces.  “With… Kris?  But Chanyeol –”

Luhan leaned forward across the table and lowered his voice.  “Look, you didn’t hear this from me.  But Tao had a pretty rough childhood, and Kris is his hero.  They were together before they joined Exo, and they’re never going to separate.  But because Tao had it so rough, Kris kind of got into the habit of taking care of him.  Chanyeol is just one more lost child to Kris, and because Tao understands what it’s like to be in a bad place, he’s trying to help.  I don’t know where you get these ideas,” he added, and shook his head. 

Baekhyun felt lost.  It was as though a part of him were missing, like he’d suddenly lost an arm or a leg.  It got so bad that Suho announced a team meeting one night, about a month into the separation.

“We’re going to China!” he announced.  The members were excited and chattered happily about the upcoming visit.  Baekhyun sank deeper into his seat, but deep in his heart, he wanted to shout for joy.  He could see Chanyeol again. 

Just to make sure he was okay.

 

They huddled around the door, whispering nervously.  They wanted to surprise the other half of their band, but now that they were here, no one knew what they should do.  Knock?  Just burst in?  What if they weren’t home? 

Baekhyun grew tired of the debate and knocked swiftly on the door.  Someone inside called out in Chinese, and then the door swung wide.  Chanyeol stood there, a pretty smile on his face.  Baekhyun’s heart clenched inside his chest to see him so happy.  He hadn’t seen an expression like that on the taller man since before everything went to hell on the cruise.

 _At least I know he’s doing well,_  he told himself, and tried to make it sound positive.  He pasted a smile on his face, but it felt fake.  Chanyeol’s face was frozen, so Baekhyun waved.  “Hello,” he said, at a complete loss for words.  To his surprise, Chanyeol staggered back, then turned and bolted for the bedrooms.  Kris was behind him, and properly invited Exo-K into the dorm, welcoming them.

“We weren’t expecting you guys to show up.  Is anything wrong?”

Suho shot a dark look at Baekhyun.  “He whined.  We had to come, just to shut him up.”

Baekhyun flushed at the insinuation.  “It wasn’t whining,” he said, and winced when his voice came out in a whine.  The others laughed at him, however, and let it go.   The Korean half of Exo was welcomed warmly, and invited to join the movie, which was restarted – this time with subtitles.  Baekhyun was aware of Chanyeol on the periphery like he was aware of where his foot was – it was mostly subconscious, but he just  _knew._   He also knew when Chanyeol slipped out of the room and left the dorm, but no one else noticed, and he didn’t want to call attention to it. 

The next morning, Chanyeol was back home.  He moved slowly, and Baekhyun noticed that he avoided letting his back touch anything.  But he seemed happier.  It was a mystery, and Baekhyun confronted Kris over it later that day. 

“Does Chanyeol … go out, often?” he asked, uncomfortable.  Kris looked startled.

“No,” he said.  “He asked… once, but then he dropped it, and hasn’t said anything since.” 

Baekhyun didn’t want to know how the Chinese leader knew what he was talking about.  It made him wonder if the others knew, too.  No one else said anything. 

 

They were there for a week.  Chanyeol wasn’t outright  _avoiding_  him, but Baekhyun still noticed that the other man never allowed himself to be in the same room as Baekhyun for too long.  Mostly he caught glimpses of Chanyeol as the rapper hovered on the periphery of the group, looking more like a ghost than an actual person.  And more often than he’d have liked, he saw Chanyeol doubled over, fumbling in his pockets for something.  Since he couldn’t ask Chanyeol, he turned to the next best source:  Tao. 

“What’s wrong with Chanyeol?” he asked, on the fifth day they were there.  Tao shrugged.

“None of the doctors know,” he said.  “He has trouble breathing, and uses an inhaler when he has an attack.” 

The news was worrisome.  Baekhyun noticed Chanyeol vanished three more times in the eight days they were there.  Each time, he came back moving slowly and occasionally a flash of pain appeared on his face.  The night before they were due to leave, Baekhyun followed Chanyeol on one of his outings.  He felt awkward telling the cab driver to ‘follow the other cab’ but with no clear-cut idea of where they were going, he had no other choice.  It turned out to be a club. 

He waited outside for nearly half an hour, debating on whether or not to go in.  Finally, his sense of curiousity got the better of him.  Inside it was dark and almost dirty compared to the spotless establishment Sarang kept.  His nose wrinkled, and he couldn’t see anything for a moment.  He glared at anyone who looked his way, and eventually they stopped eyeing him. 

He found Chanyeol in the back of the club, but almost didn’t recognise him.  He was – wearing a plaid, pleated mini-skirt, and a white collared shirt.  He was also trapped in a cage of sorts that held him on all-fours while the dom standing over him poked something in through the spaces.  Chanyeol yelped each time the stick made contact with his skin, flinching away.  He couldn’t go far, however, because of the cage. 

Assistants removed part of the cage, exposing Chanyeol’s back and legs.  The dom produced a weird-looking glass globe that glowed purple when he turned it on.  He ran it lightly up Chanyeol’s bare thighs and his expression twisted in dark pleasure as Chanyeol  _screamed._   One of the other doms wielded a club, with no art.  There was no pleasure in this – for Chanyeol.  Some of the watchers turned to each other, and some merely took care of themselves.  Disgusted – with himself, with Chanyeol, and with the whole Scene – Baekhyun left and flagged down another cab to take him back to the Chinese dorm. 

The next morning, he noticed Chanyeol sitting down gingerly.  Deciding that since no one else was up, and Chanyeol didn’t look like he’d be moving very fast, Baekhyun confronted him.  Chanyeol had a look like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming car.  It swiftly turned to depression, and then resignation.

“What do you want?” he asked in halting Korean.  Baekhyun wrinkled his nose again. 

“What do you call that place you went last night?”  _And why can’t you talk right anymore?_  

Chanyeol blanched.  “Necessary,” he said. 

“I call it  _disgusting,_ ” Baekhyun declared thoughtlessly, and then realised how it would be taken when Chanyeol flinched.  “Why the hell would you do that to yourself?  You can’t even move when you come back.”

Chanyeol eased himself up out of the chair, breathing shallowly and too fast.  “I have to,” he said.  “Excuse me,” he added, and fled.  Baekhyun found him in the hallway, doubled up over his inhaler. 

“Now you’re asthmatic?”

“no.”

“Just tell me what’s going on!”

“I need it,” Chanyeol said, unhappiness in his voice.  “It takes me to a … dark place, and it helps.”

Baekhyun’s heart hit his feet.  “What do you mean, a dark place?”

A gentle smile curved Chanyeol’s lips for just a moment.  “It’s like… the opposite of the white place I went in my head when… Sarang.  And you.”  The smile faded.  “It’s a good place for me.” 

One of the doors opened and Kris’s head poked out into the hallway, glaring blearily.  “Who’s yelling?” he grumped, and then blinked when he saw Baekhyun and Chanyeol apparently having a conversation.  “Keep it down, please,” he said, in a much nicer tone of voice.  The door closed behind him. 

The way Chanyeol spoke of it, it didn’t sound healthy.  And he’d seen for himself that all Chanyeol was getting out of visits to that club was a beating.  “You need to come  _home,_ ” Baekhyun said, and was horrified to hear himself whine. 

For the first time since Exo-K had shown up unexpectedly, Chanyeol’s face took on a firm expression – firmly negative. He scowled.  “No,” he said darkly, and worked himself up the wall to stand straight before vanishing into one of the rooms.  The room Kris had looked out of, Baekhyun realised, and then he heard the  _schnickt_  of the lock being turned.  He didn’t see Chanyeol again before they left. 

 

A month later, Exo-K returned to China.  Baekhyun looked immediately for Chanyeol, who was too thin, and too pale.  His back was nearly solid black with bruising, and it was visible even through the thin cotton shirt he wore.  Baekhyun quailed, wondering how Exo-M could let him keep going to that place when it was so clearly unhealthy. 

He contrived a situation in which he could talk to Chanyeol alone.  He wanted more than anything to apologise for acting like an ass, and maybe convince Chanyeol to return to Korea.  He just  _missed_  him, missed his constant presence and his infectious smiles.  He could go back to being Chanyeol’s sub, or his boyfriend, or even just his friend –anything Chanyeol wanted, if only he’d  _come back._

But his mouth ran ahead of his brain.  “Were you born stupid or did you just grow that way?” he demanded, as soon as they were alone. 

Chanyeol glared at him, his expression full of barely-contained malice.  It was a frankly terrifying look, and one that Baekhyun never wanted to see directed at him again from anyone – especially Chanyeol.  “What the fuck do you care?  How is  _anything_  I choose to do or not do  _any_  of your business?” 

“I’m  _making_  it my business before you  _kill yourself,_  you idiot!”

“I am  _not_  an idio-” Chanyeol broke off mid-shout and grabbed at his chest.  Baekhyun noticed him wheezing and struggling to breathe. 

“Speaking of killing yourself!” Baekhyun said, but his voice was tinged with fear.  “What’s going on?  Why is this happening?  What can I do?”

“Inhaler,” Chanyeol gasped, his anger forgotten.  “In my room.”

“Are you still in Kris’s room?” Baekhyun asked, and even though he hated himself for it, he couldn’t keep the jealousy from showing. 

Chanyeol nodded.  “Just get it,” he said, breath hitching as he tried to inhale.  Baekhyun ran for the bedrooms, threw open Kris’s bedroom door, and saw two mattresses – one large one, one small.  Beside the large one was a picture of Tao and Kris with stuffed animals on their heads.  Next to the small was a table that contained Chanyeol’s Claim – both of them, actually, and Baekhyun wasted precious moments to stop and stare as he realised Chanyeol had rescued and retained the bent “C” that he and Sarang had made him – and a little yellow inhaler.  He snatched the inhaler up off the bedside table and dashed from the room.  Chanyeol was pale, his eyes squinched shut. 

“Here,” Baekhyun said, and offered it.  Chanyeol took it and tried to use it, but his attack was too far along.  He couldn’t inhale.  Afraid that Chanyeol was going to die right before his helpless eyes, Baekhyun began to panic.  “What can I do?”

“Doctor,” Chanyeol said.  “Floor ten.” 

He lifted Chanyeol up bodily, flinching when the rapper let out a pained noise as his arm came into contact with the bruises still on his back.  It couldn’t be helped, however.  The elevator seemed to take forever to arrive.  All of Exo was on it when the doors opened.  Kris took in the scene and immediately understood, sending the others fleeing back to the room with unanswered questions while he remained behind to help Baekhyun with Chanyeol. 

“What happened?” he demanded. 

“We had a fight,” Baekhyun admitted, feeling horrible.  “He can’t use the inhaler,” he added, wringing his hands while Kris took most of Chanyeol’s weight.  He looked surprised when he noticed how thin Chanyeol had become.  Baekhyun wanted to yell at him, too, for not realising sooner.  They made it to the doctor’s office with little trouble, and the nurses got Chanyeol set up with the breathing treatment that ran through a mask hooked onto his face.  It would work automatically, they reassured the two singers, and he would recover within a few minutes with no ill effects. 

The doctor appeared to check on him.  One of the nurses spoke Korean fluently enough to act as a translator, so Kris retreated, both to give them privacy, trusting that they wouldn’t start fighting again, and to explain things to the rest of the group. 

Baekhyun watched as Chanyeol’s breathing evened out, and sighed heavily the first time his chest rose and fell normally.  He turned to the nurse.  “What’s wrong with him?” he asked.  The nurse conferred with the doctor.

“Nothing as far as we can tell,” she said.  “Doctor Yi seems to think it’s…”  She looked at Chanyeol, who was beginning to rouse slightly, and then gestured for Baekhyun to step out of the room.  With the door closed between them and Chanyeol, she gave Baekhyun a pitying look.  “Dr. Yi says the only conclusion he can draw from the available evidence is that it’s a broken heart, manifesting physical symptoms.  He’s seen it before, usually in elderly people whose spouses have passed on recently.”

Baekhyun blinked, trying to assimilate the information.  The  _doctor_  had diagnosed it as a broken heart?   But  _why,_  he asked himself, and then remembered when the problem had manifested.  He could see it in his mind as clearly as the day it had happened.  He was throwing Chanyeol’s things out into the hallway of the cruise ship.  He threw the Claim down and stomped on it in a fit of anger.  It had become damaged beneath his shoe, but Chanyeol had still picked it up and saved it. 

Baekhyun’s own heart felt like it was breaking.  Chanyeol’s problems were  _all his fault._   More than ever, he needed Chanyeol to come  _home,_  where the language was familiar, where all of his favourite shops were, where he  _belonged._  

When they reentered the room, Chanyeol’s colour was back to normal, and he was struggling into a sitting position.  Baekhyun scowled.  “You need to come home,” he said bluntly. 

“I am home,” Chanyeol countered.  Baekhyun seemed to remember the words from before, and realised they’d had the exact same argument one night in SiyahSarang’s. 

“No, I mean home to Korea.  How often do you go?  Do you even care that you’re bruised all to hell?”

The doctor took notice.  “Bruise,” he said in heavily-accented Korean.  He switched to Chinese, and the nurse translated.  “Extensive bruising can be a sign of certain diseases,” she said for him.  “Coupled with the chest pains and difficulty with breathing, I think it might be safest if he went to the emergency room to be checked out.” 

Chanyeol’s lip curled.  “Those bruises are there because I want them there,” he said, and then added something in Chinese that Baekhyun didn’t understand at all.  The doctor argued some more, but eventually disconnected Chanyeol from the machine, and allowed him to leave. 

Baekhyun picked up their fight where the doctor had interrupted after they climbed into the elevator.  “This isn’t any kind of life for you,” he said.  “You deserve so much better.”

“Don’t do this to me right now, Baekhyun,” Chanyeol begged.  They lapsed into a brief silence during the ride, while Baekhyun organised his thoughts.  He  _needed_  Chanyeol to come back, for both their sakes. 

“At least in Korea, you have people who  _care_  about you,” he said. 

Chanyeol shot him a narrow-eyed look.  “They care, here.  They care more here than anyone in Korea does.”

“That’s not true!  Kris is so wrapped up in himself that he can’t even see that you’re unhealthy, and Tao –”

Chanyeol turned on him.  “Don’t even involve Tao in this!”

Baekhyun snarled.  “So was my first impression right?  Are you fucking Tao?  Is that why you had to come to China when we broke up?”

“You think I’m – with  _Tao?_   God, what is  _wrong_  with you!?”  The elevator doors opened.  Chanyeol lunged through them before Baekhyun could stop him, and he remained just two steps ahead when they burst in through the doors.

“Kris,” Chanyeol said, and then blurted something out in Chinese.  Chen, Tao, and Kris moved in front of him, blocking Baekhyun from reaching him.  Kris and Baekhyun stared each other down, and Baekhyun wondered if this was going to tear the whole group apart.  He wasn’t willing to let it.  He conceded the fight first, and pretended not to notice when Chen and Tao ushered Chanyeol out of the room.  Kris came and sat next to him. 

“Is there a reason you and Chanyeol can’t be in the same room without arguing anymore?”

Baekhyun turned to him with tears glistening in his eyes.  “I think it’s because I love him so much that I can’t talk to him anymore.  It always just comes out wrong.” 

Kris’s expression softened, and he gathered the singer into his arms.  It had been a long time since Baekhyun had been held for no other reason than comfort and companionship.  Although the body was the wrong shape, he took what he could from the embrace.


	24. "Do you see flowers around here?"

**Chapter Twenty Two**

When all of Exo reconvened in China, about two months after Chanyeol had switched with Luhan, it was an almost physical ache in his chest to see Baekhyun again.  He’d moved into Kris and Tao’s room for their silent support, and because they asked no questions when he came in late, or refused to change in the same room any more.

He knew what the club was doing to him.  He knew that if he kept going for too much longer, he’d start believing the things they told him, that he was worthless – just a hole for a dick.  It was how he felt most of the time.  Without Baekhyun, his life had taken on a grey sort of monotone.  The only time it faded was in the club, when the pain took his mind away.  And the bruises that were left behind were reminders of the consequences of foolish actions. 

He tried his best to avoid being alone with Baekhyun – the mere sound of his voice was enough to set off an attack lately, and Chanyeol had already had to refill the inhaler prescription twice.  But one day, it happened anyway.

Naturally, Baekhyun started it off with a nasty comment.  Inwardly, Chanyeol flinched even as part of him reveled in the verbal abuse.  Perhaps one day, if Baekhyun could work off enough of his anger, things might settle between them again.  More than anything else, he longed for Baekhyun’s friendship back.  If he could go back in time and cancel out that first trip to Club SiyahSarang in which he’d first learned what Baekhyun was involved in, he’d have happily sacrificed everything he gained from it, just to have  _his_  Baekhyun back.  The way they’d used to be. 

He hated himself, and what he’d become. 

Shooting a dark look at Baekhyun, he replied with a snarky comment.  Baekhyun shouted back at him.  It was so exquisitely painful, like hot knives carving into his chest and squeezing his heart.  He reveled in the feeling for a moment, believing with all of his soul that he deserved any pain Baekhyun could dish out – not just for outing him, but for breaking his promise, and destroying their friendship.  Then it grew sharper, less pleasant.  His breathing hitched.  He couldn’t get any air into his lungs. 

Panic swelled.  He’d left the inhaler on his bedside table, figuring Baekhyun would have gone with the rest of them to the market. 

“What can I do?” Baekhyun asked.  His eyes were so wide that the whites showed all around the iris. 

A very small part of Chanyeol whispered,  _Leave me alone to die,_  but he didn’t want to die.  He wasn’t  _ready,_  no matter how unhappy he was.  “Inhaler,” he said instead.  “In my room.” 

Baekhyun’s voice dripped with jealousy as he confirmed it was also Kris and Tao’s room. 

“Just get it,” Chanyeol said, every word a torment.  His chest was tight and his heart hurt, and his lungs seemed to be squeezing in on themselves.  The air was coming out, but he couldn’t seem to get any to go back in.  His throat felt thick, like he was choking on his own windpipe.   Baekhyun seemed to be gone for an eternity.  When he finally reappeared with the inhaler, Chanyeol feared it was too late.  He couldn’t inhale enough to get the medicine into his lungs, and Baekhyun – not an idiot, no matter how he acted some days – noticed immediately. 

“What can I do?” he repeated helplessly. 

 _There’s a_  “Doctor,” Chanyeol gasped.   _He lives on_  “Floor ten.” 

Baekhyun hauled him out of the chair, muttering an apology when Chanyeol hissed in pain.  It was a good pain, however; the shock of it let him get some air into his lungs before they seemed to close up again. 

The rest of the group spilled out of the elevator when the doors opened.  Kris took charge, sending the others away and helping Baekhyun support Chanyeol. 

“What happened?” he demanded above Chanyeol’s head.  The rapper was content to let them talk over him. 

Baekhyun’s voice was soft and sad.  “We had a fight,” he said.  Chanyeol ached to reach out to him.  Comfort him.  “He can’t use the inhaler,” Baekhyun added.  They made it through the elevator ride and arrived at the doctor’s offices with no trouble, something Chanyeol was immensely grateful for.  When the mask settled over his face and the medication began to ease the tightness in his chest, he nearly passed out with relief. 

Baekhyun’s voice, when it came, was almost a shock.  “What’s wrong with him?”

Chanyeol’s eyes snapped open.  Was Baekhyun…concerned?  He yearned to listen to what they were saying, but the nurse took Baekhyun out of the room.  He lay back and felt the air filling his lungs, looked down to watch his chest expand and deflate as he breathed normally.   _This can’t keep going on,_  he told himself.  When Baekhyun and the nurse came back in, Chanyeol struggled into a sitting position.  Baekhyun looked like he had something on his mind, and Chanyeol didn’t think he could handle another fight while lying on his back. 

“You need to come home,” Baekhyun said, point blank.   Chanyeol blinked in surprise, and for a moment was unable to say anything at all. 

“I am home,” he said, wondering what Baekhyun was playing at now. 

“No,” Baekhyun said, with a long-suffering look that said  _What an idiot I have to deal with._   Chanyeol felt bad for him.  “I mean home to Korea.”  Chanyeol flinched.  The flinch became a whole-body recoil when Baekhyun went on to ask him about the club and the marks it left on him.  Then the doctor stepped in, suggesting he go to an emergency room. 

Chanyeol sneered.  “The bruises are there because I want them there,” he said, thinking,  _How can I explain this without sounding like an idiot?_  for he was aware that some people might see his obsession with his marks as unhealthy, but they were a reminder, that he’d fucked up the best thing in his life, and a warning not to do anything so stupid again.  In halting Chinese, he spoke to the doctor.  “The bruises are necessary to me.” Baekhyun looked confused, and Chanyeol realised he didn’t speak any Chinese.  It opened up all sorts of possibilities. 

“It could be dangerous,” the doctor said slowly, in the same language.

“I understand the risks,” Chanyeol told him.  He shook his head and simply unhooked the machine, allowing Chanyeol to leave. Kris had evidently gone back to the dorm, for he wasn’t waiting outside when they left.  Silence settled between them until they got back into the elevator. 

“This isn’t any kind of life for you,” Baekhyun said.  “You deserve so much better.”

 _Wrong,_  Chanyeol thought.   _I don’t deserve you._   “Don’t do this to me right now, Baekhyun,” he warned.  He’d just gotten over an attack; he didn’t need another one starting so soon.  Baekhyun lapsed into silence again, but it didn’t last long.

“At least in Korea you have people who  _care_  about you!”

Chanyeol almost laughed.  “They care, here,” he argued.  “They care more here than anyone in Korea does.”  The only one he wanted to care was Baekhyun, and he’d already destroyed his chances there.  Whatever the rest of them thought didn’t matter.  He was better off where he was.  And he knew it was only a temporary reprieve – he’d be sent back to Korea well before he was ready, because the managers had put a time-limit on it.  Maybe he could go to them and convince him to make the change permanent.

Baekhyun sputtered.  “That’s not true!” he said, raising his voice.  “Kris is so wrapped up in himself that he can’t even see that you’re unhealthy, and Tao –”

Chanyeol cut him off.  “Don’t even involve Tao in this!” he demanded.  He’d learned something of why Tao was the way he was, and he wouldn’t stand for anyone belittling him anymore.  Baekhyun’s expression twisted.

“So was my first impression right?  Are you fucking Tao?  Is that why you had to come to China when we broke up?”   

It was Chanyeol’s turn to splutter speechlessly.  “You think I’m – with  _Tao?_   God, what is  _wrong_  with you!?” 

The truth was out between them now.  Chanyeol was horrified and disgusted – Baekhyun thought he’d cheated on him with  _Tao?_  When anyone with eyes and a brain behind them could see that Tao was hopelessly devoted to Kris?  He had to get away before Baekhyun inspired another attack.  He pushed forward into the dorm room, saw Kris, and heaved a sigh of relief.  “Kris,” he said, and then in Chinese, “Help me, please! Keep him away.”  He practically dove for him, and Kris, Tao, and even Chen stepped in front of him, blocking Baekhyun from coming closer to him.   The standoff was silent, and Chanyeol allowed himself to be taken into the hall by Chen and Tao. 

“Do you want me to stay?” Chen asked.  Tao shook his head.

“I’ll talk to him,” he said.  Chen left, and Tao pushed his fingers through Chanyeol’s hair.  “We’re worried about you, Chanyeol-hyung,” he said, mixing Chinese and Korean. 

“I’m sorry,” Chanyeol said, muffling the words in Tao’s shirt.  Then a spark of humor hit him and he chuckled.  “I can’t believe…”

When he trailed off, Tao lifted his face.  “Don’t just say that and not explain it,” he said, face curious. 

The absurdity hit him all at once.  He dissolved into outright laughter.  Tao was smiling, happy to see him laughing, but a tinge of concern hovered around his eyes.  Chanyeol got himself under control.  “Baekhyun accused me of cheating on him,” he said.

Tao looked horrified.  “What?”

“With  _you._ ”

The wide-eyed, slack-jawed look on Tao’s face was priceless.   So was the disgust that quickly followed it.  “Ew,” he said.  “Don’t get me wrong, Chanyeol.  I like you.  But not…”

“Not like that,” Chanyeol finished in unison with him.  They both snickered. 

Tao turned thoughtful.  “Why would he say such a thing?”

“Because you’re always taking care of me when I’m falling apart,” Chanyeol said, abruptly sober.  “Which is always, these days.”

“Have you thought about making up with him?  Asking his forgiveness?”

“All the time,” Chanyeol said quietly.  “But I’m afraid.  What if he doesn’t give it?”

 

In the third month of the Swap, Exo-M descended on Korea and the other half of their group.  No one was unhappy about it, though Chanyeol noticed a certain tension between Luhan and Sehun and wondered what happened between them.  The last time he’d seen them, they’d been thick as thieves and tighter than Leydim’s corset strings. 

The very first chance he got, Chanyeol escaped back to Club SiyahSarang, and there he received a terrific shock.  Sarang was out of the country until further notice.

Lady Siyah came to meet him at the door, alerted somehow by Siberian.  “You’re a mess,” she told him flatly.

Chanyeol bowed his head and didn’t answer.

“Well, come in,” she said, impatiently.  At Chanyeol’s surprised look, she almost smiled.  “I’m not letting anyone tell Sarang you came here looking like a beaten puppy and I turned you away at the door,” she explained.  “If you need to be here, you need to be here.  Would you like a drink?”

Chanyeol’s mouth worked soundlessly.  He’d forgotten, in the time he’d spent with Airen, that SiyahSarang treated their subs better.  “Um, yes, Lady,” he said finally.  An amused smirk curved her lips. 

“Get one for me as well.  Angelique will be overjoyed to see you.”

She was.  The little bartender leaped fully over the bar and launched herself at him when she saw him coming.  “Liebe!” she shrieked deafeningly.  “You’re back!  Welcome home!  Where have you been?”

Some of the doms at the bar snickered, and even their subs couldn’t quite hide the smiles.  Chanyeol felt acceptance enfold him like an embrace.  He hadn’t realised how much he’d missed the spacious bar, the people,  _Seoul._   “China,” he said, belatedly answering her question. 

“What?”

“For work,” he explained, realising that she still didn’t officially know what he did for a living.  She might have figured it out, though she’d never let on if she had.  He stepped back.  “I thought you didn’t do happy hugs and flowers?”

She shook her hand in his face.  “Do you see flowers around here?”

“Only you.”

“Oh, you,” she said, and smacked his arm.  He laughed, feeling truly at peace for the first time in weeks.  “What can I get you to drink?”

“Whatever,” he said.  “And something for Lady Siyah.”

“Got it.”  Angelique went around the bar to get back behind it, earning some comments about seeing her jumping over it again that drew more laughter, and mixed drinks with expert quickness.  Chanyeol took them after Angelique extracted a promise that he wouldn’t be a stranger, and found Lady Siyah with practiced ease even while keeping his eyes down. 

“So,” she said, after taking a sip of her drink.  “You’ve returned to subbing.  I think I clearly remember training you to be a dom, and your bracelet is oddly familiar.  Would you like to tell me what’s going on?”

Chanyeol glanced at his wrist and realised he still wore the velvet strip that had once served as Baekhyun’s Claim.  He blanched, then flushed.  “Um,” he said intelligently.  “Things…didn’t quite work out between – Starling and I.” He stumbled over the name; the last time he’d said it was on the disastrous cruise. 

“I can see that.” He flicked a glance up at her and saw her considering him with the same expression as an eagle might, surveying its prey.  “I’ve also heard that while you were in China, you fell in with Airen.”

He choked on spit as he tried to breathe and swallow at the same time.  “How do you know that?”

“Starling told Sarang, and Sarang told me, of course.  How do you think?  Hmm,” she continued.  “There are worse people to get involved with than Airen.  He and Sarang were close for a while, but Sarang doesn’t like the direction he’s taken his club.  I don’t either.  Are you here to stay?”

She was so blunt.  Chanyeol sputtered while he tried to think of a way to answer her.

“Clearly not, or you’d have answered in the affirmative immediately,” she said, not waiting for him.  “So what are you here for?  We’re not like them, I’m sure you remember.”

“I remember,” Chanyeol said, grateful for something to say that didn’t involve him fumbling for words.  What  _was_  he there for, he wondered suddenly.  He’d just had to get out of the dorms, and had nowhere else to go.  It might even have been habit that drove him back to the club. 

“And Sarang’s not available.  He’s busy, overseas in Japan right now.  So what does that mean for you?”

Puzzled, Chanyeol said nothing.  Siyah crossed her legs, the leather boots creaking as she moved. 

“Why are you here, Liebe?” she asked again, pointedly.  “Are you here as a sub?”

“Yes.”

“Even without Sarang, are you willing?”

“Yes, if someone will take me.”

She slammed her drink down on the table.  “No one is ‘taking you’ here.  You still wear Sarang’s Claim, you know, and no one will violate that.”

His heart dropped.  “Does that mean that I can’t be here?”

“No.  But also, that kind of talking is the kind of thing that goes on in clubs like Airen’s piece of shit hole in the ground.  You are not property, Liebe,” she said firmly.  “Look at me.”

He managed to get his gaze up to the level of her shoulders, and found himself tensing, waiting for a strike for disobeying and raising his eyes.  

Siyah made a disgusted noise.  “What happened to the confident new dom I helped train?  What are they  _doing_  to you in China?  That was a direct order.  Look at me!”

His face jerked up and he met her eyes.  They were wide and blue, heavily made up but fairly pretty.  He wished she were Baekhyun. 

“Very good,” she said.  “I’m not going to waste time fixing you.  You fix yourself; I have no use for subs that can’t wipe their own asses.”  She glanced over her shoulder.  “Golden, come here,” she said.  A beautiful, slender young blonde woman in sparkling gold gauze stepped forward, holding a velvet bag.  She treated Chanyeol to a sultry smile that did absolutely nothing for his libido.  Clearly confused by his lack of reaction, she handed the bag to Siyah and stepped back out of the way.  

Chanyeol knew why; the only person he ever saw anymore was Baekhyun.

Siyah drew a charm out of the bag, and motioned for Chanyeol’s Claim.  She attached a burnt-looking squiggle to it and handed it back.  “This is only temporary,” she said.  “I’ll expect that back when Sarang returns.  But for now…”  Her own expression turned sultry.  “For now, I’ll take care of you.”

 

Siyah was specialised in other areas than just punishment, and Chanyeol found out firsthand why she was in popular demand.  It involved something he’d never even heard of before – electricity as a form of pain and pleasure.  She was also very keen on some of the subtler aspects, which is how he found himself paraded through the club on his first night appearing as her sub wearing a harem-girl’s costume, complete with a veil over his nose and mouth.  The blindfold was lace. 

It was the Lady’s pleasure to see him tied up and left while she sat and socialized with some of her friends, though he didn’t immediately realise that it would include him as entertainment.  He couldn’t quite see what she was doing; was only peripherally aware that there was something hanging behind him while he was forced onto his knees and stretched out by the ropes holding him in place. 

He was very thoroughly on display, and his face burned in humiliation as a group of female doms decided he was the night’s entertainment.  It wasn’t bad enough that he was wearing a female costume.  When Siyah reached over and shocked him with something, he yelped, earning giggles from the women.  And automatically, he jerked back to get away from it – touched the tube hanging behind him – his brain whited out at the contact as a much deeper kind of shock went through him. 

Electricity was, after all, Siyah’s specialty.  She took great pleasure in watching squirm, trying to decide if the tiny shock on the front was better or worse than the shock of the copper pipe behind him.  It was so distracting that he didn’t even realise that Baekhyun was at the club until the singer was upon him. 

“What the hell?  Lady Siyah, what is this?”

Chanyeol opened his eyes and saw Siyah regarding him like a lizard might.  She was Sarang’s best friend as well as co-owner of the club, and fully aware of the problems between the two of them.  “What does it look like, Starling?”  She casually reached over and touched the taser to Chanyeol’s exposed stomach, watching with cool amusement as he twisted.  “Sarang is not here, as you fully well know.  And the last time I heard, he was your dom, and you his sub.  That he chooses to submit to me while Sarang is away, well, that is fully his choice and not yours.”

 

There was an almighty row when Chanyeol returned to the dorms later that night. 

“With Siyah?  Siyah!  Have you completely lost your mind?”

Chanyeol tried to ignore him, telling himself he didn’t want to get involved in yet another argument with Baekhyun.  His chest twinged anyway, and as he turned away, he fumbled for his inhaler. 

Baekhyun grabbed him and hauled him around by the double-Claim necklace he wore, Sarang’s with Siyah’s charm attached.   “Look at this! What does this even mean?  Do you even know who you are anymore?”

“Let go of me!” Chanyeol said, temper flaring.  “What business is it of yours?  Haven’t we been over this?  You’re not my mother, you’re not my dom, and you’re definitely not my sub anymore, so what does it matter to you!”

Baekhyun flinched almost imperceptibly.  Chanyeol thought he was imagining it, especially when Baekhyun rallied and shouted back.  “It matters because you’re a member of this team and if you’re physically incapable of performing –”

“My performance never had anything to do with this!”

“Are you two arguing about sex?” Kai stepped between them and raised an eyebrow.  Baekhyun flushed, and Chanyeol straightened his Claim out before tucking it back beneath his shirt. 

“No,” they said in unison. 

“Alrighty then,” Kai said.  “Have either of you seen Luhan or Sehun?”

“Not since this afternoon,” Chanyeol said.  Sehun hadn’t been looking too good recently, but he hadn’t been able to get anything out of him as to why.  He hoped it wasn’t serious.

The next morning , Chanyeol went to the managers.  He only had three months left of his self-imposed exile, and he wanted to know if there was any way to extend it.  There was no way he and Baekhyun could be back in the same group without fighting; it wasn’t fair to the rest of them.  Before he had a chance to talk to them, Luhan burst in, eyes wild.

“I can’t stay here,” he gasped.  “Send me back.”

“What?” Chanyeol blinked at him.  Luhan grabbed him by the shirt collar and shook him.

“I can’t be here anymore.  I have to go back.”

“I can’t stay,” Chanyeol blurted out.  The managers shared a glance.

“Call Kris,” one of them said.  “Get Exo-M over here.”

Less than fifteen minutes later, Exo-M plus Chanyeol were assembled in the room.  “The problem is that Chanyeol cannot remain, while Luhan doesn’t want to stay,” he said.  “Are any of you willing to switch with Luhan for the remaining three months?”

“Not me,” Chen said.  “Not if Chanyeol’s staying.”

“Me neither,” Xiumin added, with a covert look at Chen.  “What about Tao?” It was innocently stated, more of a joke than an actual suggestion.  Tao went white, and stepped behind Kris.

“Please don’t make me,” he said. 

Lay looked around at them, and shrugged.  “I’ll stay,” he said. 

 

* * *

One chapter left!  Then it's on to Goodnight, My Angel - the TaoRis 'technicallyprequel' sequel.  I think that four chapters should do for now~ I'll post the final installment in a day or two, so before you start freaking out, here's part two of the unoriginal soundtrack/fanmix I created, plus some extras because I love you.

[Turn Up The Bright Lights UST [Part Two]](http://www.4shared.com/rar/t_Idh8Ps/Turn_Up_The_Bright_Lights_UST_.html)

The first part is also available on the foreword, but if you're lazy and don't have it yet, here you are: [Turn Up The Bright Lights UST [Part One]](http://www.4shared.com/rar/DjqirjlL/Turn_Up_The_Bright_Lights_UST_.html)

 

 **Thank you**  for loving this fanfic as much as you have.  It's really meant a lot to me that you support it SO HARD and love it SO MUCH.  It started as a lark, and the final word count is 73,807 words - that's the size of a 250 page novel.  Please keep an eye out for more side-stories as well as TaoRis's story, coming soon!


	25. All's Well That Ends Well

**Chapter Twenty Three**

Another two months passed with no interaction between the two groups.  Chanyeol and Luhan bonded over their mutually broken hearts, though Chanyeol never did get the entire story out of him.

“He’s not himself,” Luhan said, when he asked one night.  “He’s in a bad place.”

That was when they got the call: Sehun had been hospitalized for a drug overdose.  The group was on a plane that night; Luhan had to be sedated during the flight.  For the first time, Chanyeol realised that all was not well in Exo-Land for more than just Baekhyun and himself.  He stayed beside Luhan the entire time, and offered what support he could.

He felt slightly guilty; it was his need to get out of Exo-K that had lead to him suggesting Luhan, thinking that perhaps he was doing a good thing for the maknae, but instead everything had gone sour, finally culminating in this midnight flight back to Korea because he was in the hospital. 

He realised that if he’d gotten involved with Baekhyun outside of the scene, and things went sour, he might have turned to drug use to alleviate the separation, himself.  He couldn’t judge Sehun for his bad choices, but he was terribly afraid for him.  They drove straight from the airport to the hospital, since the rest of the group was already there.

Suho met them at the door when they arrived.  “The doctors aren’t telling us much.  They’ve pumped his stomach, but there’s no telling what he took, or how much.  All they said is he’s ‘stable’ whatever that means.  They just have to wait for what his body’s already absorbed to run its course before they can tell us anything more.” 

While he talked, they were walking, and it wasn’t long before they met the others in a waiting room near where Sehun was being kept.  Most of them were still in their pyjamas from the night before, when they’d rushed straight out of the dorm without bothering to dress.  Luhan’s eyes were red-rimmed and unshed tears threatened to spill over. 

“This is all my fault,” he said.  “If only I hadn’t left him,” he whispered.  Chanyeol drew him close and held him. 

“They said he’s going to be fine,” he said.  “Remember?  You weren’t even here; it’s not your fault if he decided to do something…”  _stupid,_  he didn’t say. 

“I knew,” Luhan said.  “I knew, though, and I didn’t tell anyone.”

He buried his face in his hands.  Chanyeol looked up and took in the faces of the other members.  They all looked short of sleep, and were avoiding each other’s eyes.  Except Baekhyun, who was staring at him with a look of intense concentration.  Chanyeol sighed, wondering what the explosion was going to be over this time.

It didn’t take Baekhyun long to work his nerve up.  Chanyeol looked up at him in silence as he approached, and to his surprise, Baekhyun simply stood there silently for a moment.

Then to everyone’s surprise, he dropped to his knees and put his forehead to the ground.  “I’m so, so sorry, Chanyeol!  I’ve been a complete ass, an idiot and a bastard about this whole thing and I’m sorry!”

Chanyeol was stunned, barely able to think, let alone make a reply.  Baekhyun took a shuddering breath and mistook his silence for rejection.

“Please, please, please,” he begged.  “I miss you.  I miss everything about you and I’m so sorry I treated you the way I did.  I really – I really love you, Chanyeol, and especially since you left it’s been like a part of me is missing and I’m just not whole, and I’m unhappy and miserable and I’m making everyone around me miserable, too.  I don’t care what happens when you come back – that’s not true, I want to be your sub again, I knew it all along but I didn’t even  _realise it_  until Siyah pointed it out that night in the club and I understand if you don’t ever want to have anything to do with me ever again but just believe me, please!  Believe that I love you and I want you to f-fuck me instead and I’m sorry I never let you, I’m sorry I didn’t trust you, and I’m sorry about everything.  I can’t go on like this much longer without you and I need you back with me, so  _please._ ”

“Okay,” Chanyeol blurted out, more to get Baekhyun to get up and stop talking.  Then he absorbed the actual words.  “It’s – I do,” he said.  “I forgive you.  Now get up.”

In the background, he could hear Kai and Kyungsoo talking quietly.  “What does he mean, ‘sub?’  Like, submissive?”

As Baekhyun climbed to his feet with Chanyeol’s help, he couldn’t resist and hugged him, holding him just because it was apparently all right again.  He breathed deeply, and for the first time Baekhyun’s words didn’t hurt, didn’t leave him gasping for air.  He simply basked in Baekhyun’s nearness and the smell of him, nearly forgotten. 

“I’m so sorry,” Baekhyun whispered again.  “I love you.”

Chanyeol practically squeezed him.  “I love you, too.  I have for a long time,” he whispered back.  “But you never… believed me.”

“You never just… told me,” Baekhyun countered.  He stepped back when he realised the rest of the members were applauding. 

“Sehun will be sorry he missed this,” Tao said, a watery smile on his face.  Baekhyun’s lips split in a tension-breaking grin, and Chanyeol felt himself smiling as well. 

 

When Sehun was out of immediate danger, the company quietly sent him to a rehab center in Incheon.  Chanyeol was officially swapped back to Exo-K, thanking Lay for spending the time in Korea for him.  Lay looked past him at Suho and smiled.

“It was worth it,” he said. 

“But I’ve been wanting to ask,” Xiumin said.  “Are you seriously… I mean, BDSM.  Isn’t that… unhealthy?”

“Wrong,” Kai said.  “I always thought you had to be twisted inside to enjoy something like that.”

“Is that what the scene on the cruise ship was about?” Kyungsoo added.  Suddenly everyone was crowding him.  Baekhyun, at his side, was beginning to panic.  This was exactly what he’d feared about his secret getting out. 

Kris cleared his throat.  “Excuse me,” he said.  “As of this moment you need to forget every negative thing you’ve ever heard about BDSM because I’m telling you right now that none of its true.”

“How do you know?” Suho asked. 

Kris and Tao exchanged a look, and a nod.  Their eyes met Baekhyun and Chanyeol’s.  Then Tao stepped forward.  “Because,” he said.  “Kris and I have been involved with the BDSM scene for years.  Before Exo was even formed.” 

“And there’s nothing twisted or wrong about us,” Kris added.  “Just like there’s nothing twisted or wrong about Baekhyun and Chanyeol.  They’ve been involved for almost a year, together.  You knew they were going out, but now you know where.  Why does the ‘where’ make it any worse?”

“It doesn’t,” Kai said, taking the high road.  “I just never knew – I mean, all I’ve ever heard was that it was bad.”

There were some sideways looks for a few days, but then Sehun called from Incheon and the drama was shoved aside in favour of Sehun’s progress.  Things went on as normal.

Well, as normal as they could get.  The night before Exo-M was scheduled to return to China, the boys picked up a couple of bottles of soju and sat around drinking.  Once everyone loosened up a bit, Kyungsoo stepped forward with a question.

“What does BDSM even stand for?”

Chanyeol blinked, surprised.  “Uh,” he said.  Kris spoke up and answered it.  As though the question opened the flood-gates, suddenly everyone was asking about it.

“Does it hurt?”

“Does it ever feel good?”

“Why do you do it?”

“How did you even learn about it?”

“Is it really as normal as regular sex?”

“Nothing about sex is normal,” Xiumin said.  “Everyone’s got their own little Things.”

Luhan blushed.  “Like costumes,” he said.

“And food,” Kyungsoo added.

“Well, what’s yours?” Lay asked Xiumin.  “Since you brought it up.”

“I like those manwha,” Xiumin said.  “About the aliens with lots of tentacles.”

Silence dropped in the room so suddenly, you could have heard a fly blowing it’s nose.

 

 _So take this city and catch your breath and hold it like a kiss..._  
  
Turn up the bright lights  
Light up the world tonight  
Shine like a star, shine above and sail away  
  
Turn on the mystery, there's no other place to be  
It's only you and me, beneath this perfect sky…

 

* * *

Unoriginal Soundtrack/Fanmix  
[Turn Up The Bright Lights UST [Part One]](http://www.4shared.com/rar/DjqirjlL/Turn_Up_The_Bright_Lights_UST_.html)  ||  [Turn Up The Bright Lights UST [Part Two]](http://www.4shared.com/rar/t_Idh8Ps/Turn_Up_The_Bright_Lights_UST_.html)

 

**COMING SOON:**

C

 

[ **Goodnight, My Angel** ](http://www.asianfanfics.com/story/view/352831/1)

Prequel to TUtBL


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